Jack Kane and the Statue of Liberty (21 page)

Lenny intervened. “Hey, pally, good to see you again,” he said, wrapping a meaty arm around the man’s shoulder. “How you been?”

The man’s expression was unfriendly. “What do you want? Why are you following us? What do you have against pianos?” He tried to shrug off Lenny’s arm.

“I think you’ve got it all wrong, pally. I’m the one asking the questions here. Like why have you been getting in the way every time we do something? You spies?”

“I have no idea what you are referring to. Now leave the lady and me alone.”

Lenny sneered. “I’m afraid I can’t do that, pally. And if you look over at your lady friend, you’ll notice my friend is getting nice and cozy with her.”

Squiggy had one arm around the woman while he held a wicked looking blade to her throat with his left hand.

“What do you want from us? What are you going to do,” the man asked.

“I have someone who wants to meet you.”

The woman spoke up for the first time, her chin jutted out defiantly. “We’re terribly sorry, but we already have a previous engagement.”

Squiggy chuckled. “I don’t think you’ll be making it. Will they, Lenny?”

“No, I don’t think they will. Come on you two. And don’t try nothing smart or someone will get hurt.” He made sure he was very clear about who he thought that might be.

Reluctantly, the two prisoners went without further complaint.

Fourteen

“So we meet at last, for the very first time,” Felonious said.

The man shook his head. “Actually, sir, we have met many times before, some of those times right here in this very room.”

Felonious frowned. “Exactly who are you?”

He smiled and extended a hand. “Name’s Jack. Jack Kane. I work for you, remember?”

“I think I would know if you worked for me,” Felonious said. He glanced over at Lenny who was staring at Jack, a puzzled expression on his face. “Does this fellow work for me or not, minion?”

“Now that he mentions it, he does look sorta like the guy who fixes stuff around here and sorts through the junk for you, Boss.”

“I’ve worked for you for years, sir, and might I say what a pleasure it has been—”

“Mr. Kane!” the woman shrilled.

“Oh yeah. Right.” Jack puffed out his chest. “Why have you kidnapped us and brought us here against our will?”

“Oh, I believe you know the answer to that question already, Mr. Crane.”

“No, I really don’t. And the name is Kane, not Crane.”

The woman elbowed him in the ribs.

“Oh, yes.” He cleared his throat. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about pianos, would you, sir?”

“Pianos? Why in heaven’s name would I know anything about pianos? Stop trying to change the subject with your incessant babbling and focus, man.” Felonious glared at Jack. “I must assure you, what I speak of is much more important than some tropical fruit.”

“Fruit?” Jack was momentarily at a loss. “Mr. Filcher, a piano is not a type of fruit. It is, in point of fact—”

He was interrupted by another elbow to the ribs by the woman.

“Er, right. Sir, I must ask you about a plot against this city and this country.”

Felonious leaned back in his desk chair with a creaking of wood and springs. He smiled. “I knew if I gave you enough rope you would hang yourself.” He steepled his fingers together, glaring over them at Jack.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand,” Jack said.

“Don’t play coy with me, sir. You and your lovely accomplice are spies. You have as much as admitted it. All day you’ve thwarted my plans, followed my minions, been a thorn in my side, and now you tell me my own plans.”

“Spies?” the woman said. “You think we’re spies? Who could we possibly be spying against?”

“Surely, miss, you cannot think me foolish enough to believe you,” Felonious said. “You are, of course, spying on me and doing your best to foil my plans. You’re agents for the United States government sent here to spy on my work. What a clever plan to have you working right under my nose all this time. Watching and waiting for my plans to unveil themselves and, at the right moment, foil me.”

“You have plans?” Jack asked, his expression puzzled. “You’re only a junk dealer. A junk dealer with a terrible English accent, but a junk dealer nonetheless. What plans could you possibly have?”

Felonious straightened and tried to look imposing. “I’ll have you know I’m—”

Bennington came running into the room. “My lord, if I may speak to you?” he sputtered between gasping breaths.

“Dash it all man, what is it? Can’t you see I’m interrogating the prisoners?”

Bennington leaned closer to Felonious to whisper in his ear. “My lord, do you think it wise to reveal your plan to these people?”

Felonious shrugged him off. “Of course it’s wise. I’m doing it, after all. I mean, what could these two fools possibly do to thwart me further now that I have them? They are less than nothing. Besides, they already know my plans. I was going to fill in the details.”

Bennington sighed. “As you wish, my lord.” He slipped into a corner.

Felonious turned back to Jack. “Now, where was I?”

“You were about to reveal the details of your sinister plot,” the woman said.

“Ah, yes, the plan!” Felonious paused for dramatic effect. The seconds stretched into a minute, then another.

“Well?” she finally asked.

“You young people are so impatient,” Felonious grumbled. “Not even willing to give a man his moment of glory to gloat. Ahem. Very well. My plan is to destroy the Statue of Liberty.”

Jack shook his head. “The Statue of Liberty? Are you sure?”

Felonious frowned. “What do you mean, am I sure? Of course I am. It’s my plan, you fool.”

Jack nodded. “Of course, of course. But the Statue of Liberty doesn’t even exist yet. Why would you want to destroy it?”

“I will destroy it for what it represents. Freedom, liberty, and hope. Things you colonials think you deserve. When I destroy it, those values will be damaged as will the relationship between France and the United States. Your economy will suffer and eventually fail. France will come here and declare war. The United States will crawl back to the United Kingdom to beg for help, and Her Majesty will reward me richly.” He paused to breathe.

“Couldn’t you do all that more easily by destroying the United States piano industry?” Jack asked hopefully.

“What? No!” Felonious growled with a mixture of surprise and anger.

“It’s that Betsy and I were so sure someone was trying to damage the piano industry. It seems a shame to waste all that effort.”

A quiet, “Oh brother!” came from the corner where Bennington stood.

“Pianos? Pfft! Where is the glory in pianos? No, I think I will continue with my plan. I will leave the piano industry to someone less capable.”

“So, what happens now?” the woman, Betsy, asked.

“Now, we have a duel. Naturally, I will be the victor. You will die, and I will continue with my diabolical plan,” Felonious said matter-of-factly. “Since I am a gentleman, I will, of course, give you choice of weapons.”

“That’s it then?” Jack said with a sigh. “A duel to the death?”

Felonious laughed. “Certainly! It is how gentlemen deal with such things, and while you are hardly a gentleman, I will give you that honor. Now, chose your weapon.”

Jack cupped his chin and paced. He went back and forth six times before he answered. “I suppose it would be too much to hope you have a steam-powered battle mech?”

“Steam-powered battle mech?” Felonious chuckled and thrust out his hand. “Done! I challenge you to a duel to the death. Say two o’clock in Central Park?”

“Mister, this is the United States of America. We do our duels at high noon or sundown. And being that two o’clock has come and gone…”

“How colonial of you,” Felonious said. “As it is your last day on Earth, I shall acquiesce to your request. Since I am in a bit of a hurry, and the noon high has passed us by as you say, the battle shall be at sundown.”

“Sundown is at precisely 9:17 p.m., sir,” Bennington supplied helpfully. “Might I suggest using Battery Park? It would seem most appropriate.”

“I will see you at 9:17 p.m. at Battery Park, sir,” Jack said. “Shall we go, Betsy?”

“Oh, the girl will not be going with you,” Felonious said. “She shall remain here with me until the duel. Call it a guarantee you will come.”

His minions walked forward, each grabbing the girl by an arm. She struggled against them before giving up.

“Perhaps I could ask a boon. One gentleman to another.”

“A boon? You dare ask me a boon?”

“It is quite within his rights to request a boon prior to a duel of this nature, my lord,” Bennington said.

Felonious frowned. Curse Bennington holding to formality! “Very well. You may have one thing and one thing only.”

“I require the assistance of Ms. Wilkes to prepare my battle mech. Once preparations have been made, she shall return as your prisoner until our duel is concluded.”

“Done. Be gone.”

Fifteen

“Bennington, I will be retiring to my workshop to prepare for the duel. See that I’m not disturbed, there’s a good chap,” Felonious said.

“The girl, my lord?” Bennington asked, stepping forward. “What shall I do with her upon her return?”

“Hmm? Oh yes, the girl.” He considered the problem. “When she returns, throw her into the dungeon until I have need of her.”

Bennington cleared his throat.

“Dash it all, Bennington, what is it? I’m a busy man!”

“Yes, my lord. Sorry, my lord,” Bennington said without any hint of apology.

“Well?”

“It’s just, that… Well, we don’t actually have a dungeon as such, my lord.”

“No dungeon?” Felonious shook his head. “I am certain I told you to put a dungeon in a while ago.”

“You did indeed, my lord,” Bennington affirmed. “However, when confronted with the cost of doing so, you decided to build a wine cellar instead.”

“Is it at least a dark, dank wine cellar,” Felonious asked.

“Oh, most definitely, my lord. Her stay will be most uncomfortable since it is also quite chilly down there.”

“Well…good,” Felonious said. “You may manacle her near the Californian red wine.” He corrected himself. “No, that won’t do. We are not barbarians, after all. You had better make it near the Spanish Pinot Blanc. Not the finest in my cellar, but better by far than the domestic.”

Bennington nodded. “Very good, sir. Any other instructions for the young lady’s impending imprisonment?”

“I suppose you should take her some fine cheeses and crackers. And a table and chair. And a candle. Oh, and a violinist. We must have a certain level of refinement, after all.”

“As you say, my lord. I will make the appropriate arrangements.”

As the two men had been talking, Lenny and Squiggy had been making inconspicuous movements toward the door.

Felonious didn’t even turn his head to look at them. “Now, what shall I do with you two?”

They froze.

“I am quite cross you did not mention this Jack Kane fellow worked for me.”

“We didn’t know until just now, Boss. Honest,” Lenny protested.

“You are poor excuses for minions,” Felonious replied. “Still, no harm done, I suppose.”

“So what do ya want us to do then, Boss?” Squiggy asked.

“Follow Mr. Kane and Ms. Wilkes. See that they speak to no one.”

~ * ~

“…and do you even think that, what did you call it? Battle mech, will even work? I mean, Jack, really. You’re dealing with a mastermind here. Someone with a lot of money and far more resources. I think you’re jumping into a foolish situation, and I don’t know what you’re trying to prove. You’ll only end up getting yourself killed.”

Jack stopped outside the junkyard entrance, the familiar vibrations of the devices in his pockets charging as he stood there. Betsy was right in many aspects. He’d built a battle mech, sure. He’d done some simple tests with picking up items and ran simulations with the onboard weapons. He’d even got the boiler pressure to hold up with the double thick wall. But the fact remained he’d never had to use it in an actual battle. How was he supposed to know that Felonious, his boss of all people, was not only behind a plot Jack failed to see, but also had a battle mech and was happy to use it?

“Betsy.”

“No, you need to think about this. It’s better to run away and fight him another day. There’s no shame in staying alive.”

“Betsy.”

“Seriously, what do you think you’ll gain from this fight? Even if you win, and I’m not saying you’ll lose, but what happens if you win? Do you think you’ll suddenly be able to keep crime in this city under your thumb? You’ll be a target! Others will come looking for you only to prove a point. And what about these British ninjas? Surely they’ll come looking for you.”

“Betsy.”

“And those henchmen! Did you see how big they were? I mean, sure they’re not smart, but they’re Americans working for a British agent. What if there are more of them?”

“Betsy!”

“Jack, I insist, you can’t do this. You can’t. Because—”

He ran the back of his hand across her cheek. Tears streamed down her face. As she had done earlier in the day to him, he placed one finger on her lips. She opened her mouth and took in a breath as if she were going to say something, but remained silent.

With his hands on her checks, he dragged her head toward his and kissed her on the forehead. “This is something I must do.”

Letting her stand there with her thoughts was difficult. He had to get prepared. He couldn’t be burdened with worry and concern. Hopefully she would see fit to help him, but even if she didn’t, he would be able to get himself ready. The first thing he needed to do was to get his damaged mask out and repair it. He couldn’t go into battle without it. It would take—.

A hand on his shoulder whipped him around. She yanked on his hair, pulling his face to hers. His eyes widened. Her lips, though soft, pressed hard into his.

When she drew back, she wore a new look of determination. “You can do this, but you’re not doing a thing without me. From now on, we’re partners.”

She backed up and smoothed her dress. For the first time, he noticed how beautiful it appeared on her despite the many tears, snags, and smears. Her hairdo, once high and perfect, now hung about her shoulders. How could he have overlooked her for so long? All along she’d been the person he needed to help him.