Jack Kane and the Statue of Liberty (15 page)

Lenny shoved the man and his baggage trolley roughly out of the way. “Can’t do that, buster.” He stomped across the gangplank, ignoring the insane drop on either side. Squiggy followed close behind him.

“Stop! You are not allowed on ze ship!” The steward shouted, more loudly this time. “Security! Zer are intruders on ze ship!”

Lenny and Squiggy hurried on board. If the man were calling now, it wouldn’t be long before security showed. There wasn’t much time to look over the vessel for Mister Y.

“Squiggy, you check the hold, and I’ll go through the passenger cabins and lounge. Remember, he carries a cane with a silver skull as a handle.”

“Right.” Squiggy took off at a dead run down a set of stairs to the gondola’s hold.

Lenny checked the direction placards in the hall and followed them to the cabin area. He slammed doors open at a breakneck speed. Except for startling another steward, who was busy cleaning a room, they were all empty. The sound of angry voices came from the hallway. He picked up the pace, kicking and punching doors open.

Nothing.

Lenny managed to find the grand salon when five extremely serious looking men paraded a battered and bruised Squiggy into the room. They held up truncheons and advanced toward him.

“You going to come peacefully or do we have to drag you outta here like we did for your friend?” a burly mustachioed man said, brandishing the weapon.

Lenny checked around the room. No sign of their man. “I was leaving, actually.” He turned and marched out. The security officers followed close behind him, dragging Squiggy between them.

Four police were waiting for them on the deck of the building, guns drawn.

“No need for those, officers,” Lenny said. “We were leaving.”

“Yes, me boyo, you are,” said a beefy sergeant in a thick Irish brogue. “You’ll be coming to the station with us and explaining yerselves to the lieutenant.”

Lenny kept walking. The security guards released Squiggy as he left the ship. “Don’t trouble yourselves, officer. We know our way out of the building.”

“I don’t think you’re understanding me, boyo,” the sergeant said. “It’s not a request I be making to ye.”

Lenny saw his chance as the elevator doors opened to discharge another set of passengers. “Now, Squiggy. Make for the elevator!” He went from casual stroll to full-out run in a heartbeat, slamming through two of the coppers.

Squiggy was right on his tail knocking the remaining two to the ground. They shoved past the exiting passengers onto the lift.

“Kid, there’s a ten-spot in it for you if you get us down before the cops can grab us!” Lenny shouted.

The elevator jockey doffed his cap with a grin. “You got it, sir.” He closed the doors and started the elevator’s descent. “I hope you gentlemen don’t mind me running this lift a little faster to make sure?”

“Do it kid!” Lenny pulled a ten and another dollar out of his wallet as the elevator car shot down the shaft. He actually felt lighter, the bell doing an almost continuous dinging.

The kid slowed the elevator as it got closer to the ground, and gravity reasserted itself. With a final ding, he stopped the lift and opened the door. “Here you are, gentlemen. I took the liberty of stopping on the second floor so you can avoid the security on the main. Just turn left after you exit the lift, and you will see the stairway exit. It will take you out into the alley and away from the building.”

Lenny grinned and pulled out his wallet. He pulled another ten-spot out, adding it to the existing bills. “Thanks, kid. I owe you one.”

The young man took the bills and smiled. “Pleasure doing business with you fine gentlemen.” He stepped out of the elevator with them. “I believe this lift might be out of order for the rest of the day.” He pulled the doors shut and slapped up an ‘Out of Order’ sign. He waved at the two men. “You go on ahead. I’ll come down shortly.”

Lenny and Squiggy wasted no time leaving the building. Lenny cautiously poked his head out the door. The alley was deserted, but he could hear the shrill whistles of the police from one direction.

“Come on, Squiggy. Let’s get out of here.” He purposely walked away from the lights, Squiggy right behind him. “We’d better find a quiet place to call the boss to let him know Mister Y never showed.”

Ten

Felonious stood at the lab controls looking at the video image being fed from his robot battle machine. The chewing gum patch over the oil-dispensing unit remained intact, and the machine was working. So far.

The weapon’s targeting system was another story altogether. Scorch marks covered the far wall from weapons that completely missed the thrown targets.

He tweaked the targeting system again. “Throw another pigeon into the air, Bennington. I think I might have the problem fixed.”

“As you wish, my lord,” Bennington replied. He opened the door to the cage and pulled out another of the captive pigeons. “I must reiterate, my lord. When sportsmen talk about shooting pigeons, they usually are referring to the clay variety.”

Felonious shrugged. “There are too many of the real kind messing up the estate. These will do quite nicely.” He pressed a button and crosshairs appeared on the screen. “Go ahead and release the bird!”

Bennington threw the pigeon up into the air. The robot’s head turned, tracking the motion and a brilliant beam of red energy flared from one of the arms. The beam failed to as much as singe a single feather on the bird, which flew up into the rafters to join its cooing brethren. The far wall acquired a brand new carbon spot where the beam struck.

To add insult to injury, the bird did what pigeons were known for and deposited a warm white blob on the head of the robot.

“Drat!” Felonious fumed. “I was sure I had the targeting working that time. What is wrong with this— Bollox! Now what?” He turned to the sound of a hooting klaxon.

“I believe that is your external communication device, my lord,” Bennington said.

“Ah yes. But who could possibly be calling me here?”

“As the only ones to have a communication unit capable of calling you, I believe it must be your two, ahem, henchmen. A Mr. Lenny and a Mr. Squiggy, if I may be so bold.”

“Excellent deduction, Bennington,” Felonious congratulated his butler. “Now, be a good chap and engage the answering portion of the device.”

“As you wish, my lord.” Bennington crept across the laboratory and activated the communicator.

“This is Lenny calling the boss. Please respond, Boss.”

“This is Felonious. Report, minion!”

“Hello, Boss. We went to the zeppelin docks like you said and watched for Mister Y. He didn’t show.” The words were punctuated with static and loud hisses or distortion.

“I beg your pardon? I don’t believe I heard you correctly,” Felonious said. “Did you say the agent I sent you to meet did not arrive? Was his airship delayed? Did you find the right airship?”

“You heard me, Boss. We checked with the airship crew. They said the ship was from England, like you said. They told us it was the only afternoon arrival.”

Felonious frowned. “Are you fools certain you did not miss him?”

The static increased, making Lenny’s next words unintelligible.

“Repeat that, minion! I did not understand anything you said.”

“I said, we were there when the ship arrived, Boss. No one matching the description you gave came off. We searched the ship too. No one.”

“Very well. I will investigate that further. For now, I need you to pick up another shipment of explosives. Go to the regular place in the Furniture District.”

“Whatever you say, Boss. We will take the spyder and get what you need.” There was a pause, the sound of muffled conversation then Lenny spoke again. “You’re right Squiggy. Boss, we saw a guy and a dame at the zeppelin deck.”

“Imagine that,” Felonious said sarcastically. “A man and a woman, together on the zeppelin deck of the Waldorf Building. Whatever might you see next? Perhaps birds flying in the air?”

“Aw, Boss, don’t be like that,” Lenny said, static punctuating his words. “What I mean is, Squiggy and I have been seeing them all day. The same pair.”

“Do you think they are following you?”

“We don’t know, Boss. Could be.”

Felonious stared at Bennington. “I wonder if we have found our spies?”

“I am sure I don’t know, my lord.”

He turned back to the communicator. “Very well, minions. If you see them again, I want you to follow them and find out what they are up to.”

“Will do, Boss,” Lenny replied. “Do you have any other orders before we go, Boss?”

“No, that will be all for now.” Felonious flipped off the communication device with an exaggerated wave of his arm. He sat and cupped his chin in his hand. “How very interesting. I believe I may have to meet those two.”

Eleven

Bennington sat at the small reading desk in his sparsely furnished bedroom, deep in thought. Young Felonious was rapidly getting himself embroiled in more than he bargained for. Destroying the Statue of Liberty incognito was one thing, but now he seemed to be attracting the wrong kind of attention. That sort of thing could expose everything Bennington had worked so hard on.

No, steps needed to be taken. It was time to pull in some of the ‘resources’ Her Majesty had offered him.

He unfolded the small screen of his M.A.C.—monitor, analyze, and computational—device from the back of his desk. The device lit up as it was raised to viewing height.

He touched an icon on the display. The image changed to reveal the back of a man looking out a window. Bennington cleared his throat.

The sound must have transferred through the connection because the man stiffened and turned around. His expression changed from one of fear to confusion.

“Who…who are you?” His voice held some of the lilt of the British Isle.

“My name is Bennington Bartholomew Bentley the XVIth. I believe you were informed I might be paying you a call?”

The man smiled. “Ah, yes! Mr. Bentley. I was indeed told you might be calling. How may I be of service?”

Bennington leaned closer to the M.A.C. “I believe you have a squad of men who have the ability to be…discrete?”

“Discrete?” The man considered the request. “Ah, yes, discrete. I do indeed. They have trained with the finest—”

“Fine, fine,” Bennington said, interrupting the man. “I apologize for my rudeness, sir, but time is of the essence. I must have those men out in the field immediately if we are to stave off disaster.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” the man said, a frown creasing his brow. “I do get carried away sometimes. But I digress. Where would you like my discrete gentlemen sent, and what are they to do?”

“Two of my operatives…” Bennington tried not to wince at the word, “are being followed by a man and a woman. It is imperative the man and woman be stopped.”

“Where are this man and woman currently?”

“That is the thing,” Bennington said. “I do not know their exact whereabouts. That is why I require the skills of your people. Information gathering, stealth, discretion… I am hoping they can find and remove the pair before things take a wrong turn.”

“Very good, sir,” the man said. “If you would be so kind as to provide me with an address where my men can find and follow your operatives, I am sure we can deal with the troublesome man and woman should they turn up again.”

“Excellent,” Bennington said. “My operatives should be on their way to Dunn and Over Explosives Emporium. I expect they will arrive very soon.”

“My men will be there, sir.”

“How, may I ask, am I to know your men should I see one?” Bennington asked.

“Well, that’s the thing, sir. You shouldn’t see them at all. However, they do dress the same and wear masks decorated to match the Union Jack. Oh yes, and they carry silver-tipped canes.”

“How extraordinary,” Bennington said. “Thank you very much for your help. Contact me if you run into any difficulties.”

“Goodbye, sir,” the man said.

His image disappeared from the screen as Bennington touched another button.

~ * ~

“How are we going to find the correct shipment, Betsy?”

They had taken way too long to eat their lunch. Jack stuffed his food into his mouth and could barely even remember what he ordered whereas Betsy carefully cut her food up into tiny bites and savored each morsel. Even the maître d’ seemed to be conspiring against Jack by taking an interminably long time to return with the check. He thought he would go mad. At last they left the restaurant.

“Jack, honestly. I told you a dozen times. I know people who can help us, and I did get up and glance out the window, while you wolfed your food down like a common cur, to make sure the zeppelin hadn’t been unloaded. I assure you we’ll find the shipment and follow it. Trust me.”

Trust was never an issue when it came to Betsy, but when it came to people blowing things up, trust wasn’t the point. It was all about timing. They had to be there before anyone would have a chance to even think about trying to blow up the shipment of piano wire.

Jack put his hand inside his rubbery coat and ran his fingers over the metal of the mask. Jack Kane might not be able to frighten someone away from committing a crime, but a masked avenger might. He just needed to—.

“Get your hand out of your coat. I don’t know what you’re thinking about doing, but let’s keep a level head about this. If you go stomping around frightening people, and the ones we want to catch are here, you’ll only scare them off too.”

“Of course.” She may be right, but he’d rather be stomping around rather than waiting for something else to happen.

He pulled the tracking cube from his pocket. It was a leather-covered, iron cube with a thumb wheel gear to adjust the pitch of the device’s sound. If the two big men he’d seen waiting for someone to come off the zeppelin were anywhere nearby, he was certain they’d be up to no good. Perhaps they were here and waiting as well.

He flipped a switch on the top of the device and stared at the box. A green glow emanated from a round window next to the switch, but there was no noise. He shook the box and tapped it on the side a couple of times, but still no sound.

“Jack, put that away. We’ve business to take care of.”