Jack Kane and the Statue of Liberty (6 page)

No matter, he was long overdue for a short nap.

~ * ~

“Did you hear something?” Squiggy asked Lenny as the two men sprinted down the street to their spyder.

“Yeah. Some guy yelling. Didn’t catch what he was sayin’ though.”

“Do you think he was yelling at us?” Squiggy asked.

“Naw! Why would he? I don’t know him,” Lenny said with a shake of his head.

“You’re probably right, Lenny,” Squiggy said. “I guess I’m just jumpy.”

The two men slowed and climbed into the spyder.

“Well, calm yourself, Squiggy, and take us over to the diner on 40th and Marlow. We’ll get some breakfast and coffee there. By the time we’re done, it’ll about be time to go over to the dock like the boss wants.”

“How do you want me to get there?”

“Good question.” Lenny strapped himself in. “Take the most direct route. I’m hungry, and we don’t have a lot of time.”

Squiggy did up his own straps. “Whatever you want.” He powered the mechanical spyder and pushed the control stick forward. The metal bug lurched forward and took a step over the wall of the estate as if it wasn’t there.

He continued driving the contraption, not pausing for buildings or anything else. Whenever anything big got in the way, the spyder climbed up and over it. The most interesting sight appeared was when it was halfway up an apartment building. Squiggy risked a look over the side and saw a young woman sleeping on top of her covers. She was clad only in a scanty diaphanous nightie.

“Hey, would ya look at that,” he managed to say before the spyder was up and over the building.

“See what?” Lenny asked.

“Nothing.”

Lenny crossed his arms and pushed his chin into his chest. “Fine. Wake me when we get to the diner, would ya?”

“Sure thing, Lenny.”

Squiggy guided the mechanical spyder to the diner and woke his friend after he parked it in a vacant spot outside the building.

A gum chewing waitress skated up as the spyder settled to the ground. “What’ll it be, gents?”

“Two coffees and two orders of bacon, sausage, eggs, and toast,” Lenny said. He looked at his friend. “Oh, and whatever he wants too.”

Squiggy ordered, and they went into the restaurant to wait.

“What do you suppose the boss is going to do with that fancy carriage of his?” Squiggy asked.

“I don’t know, but I think we need to start thinking about our own Plan B. What’re we going to do when the boss goes totally nuts? I don’t mind making some money at someone else’s expense, but I don’t know about working against our home country.”

“Home country,” Squiggy said, squeezing his eyes shut. “What’re you talking about? This ain’t our home country.”

Lenny punched him in the shoulder. “Of course this is, you dummy. You were born across the street from me. You’re as American as I am.”

“American? I thought you meant someone from New Jersey.”

“Stupid! The boss is working against the government of the United States. You must know that.”

“Yeah, but I’m a New Yorker and an American. I don’t give a darn about no United States.”

Lenny sighed. “I keep forgetting you were a kindergarten dropout.” He rubbed his eyes. “Well, let me explain for a second. The United States and America are the same things, and New York is part of the United States of America. That means anything the boss does against this country is against our country too.”

“Well, that don’t seem hardly right,” Squiggy said. “We ought to tell someone.”

“Who do you suggest? The Feds? The military?” Lenny asked. “We tell either of those groups of clowns and our lives won’t be worth a plug nickel. Either they’ll get us or the boss will. Nope, we’ve got to put a plan together that’ll see us get away if things go bad.”

“What should we do?”

“Well, I remember the boss talking about some new-fangled contraption called a submarine that goes under the water. Maybe we should find out where it is and be ready to steal it if we have to. We can stock some food and money into the thing and be ready to go.”

“A submar-what?” Squiggy asked.

“A submarine. It travels under the water. It’ll let us get away without being seen.”

Squiggy shook his head. “I’m not much of a swimmer. How long would we need to hold our breath? And how are we going to keep from bobbing up like corks in the water? It seems kind of fishy to me.”

Lenny laughed. “You don’t have to swim. You’ll be inside the thing and it will be full of air. Don’t worry. You won’t drown. Now where do you suppose we could go?”

“I’ve heard Boston is pretty nice,” Squiggy said.

“Boston is in the states. I think the boss would be able to find us. We’ve got to think bigger and go farther.”

“How about Baltimore then?”

Lenny laughed. “Don’t you worry your pretty little brain, Squiggy. I’ll do the planning and figure out where we need to go.”

~ * ~

Lenny pushed the greasy, empty plate away and stretched. The sun was starting to show over the buildings. He smiled at the waitress and held up his coffee cup. The girl nodded with a bored smile and sashayed back to the coffee station to collect the pot. Squiggy sat on the other side of the table, leaning back and snoring. A line of drool hung from his chin.

The girl, whose nametag read
Emily
, filled the cup and said, “Will there be anything else, sir?”

“Thank you, miss, but no. I believe my partner and I will be going soon. Just the bill, please?”

“Be right back, hon,” she said. With the same unhurried sashaying walk, she returned to the counter.

Lenny watched her sway until she was behind the counter. He picked up the lukewarm mug of liquid and drained it in one long gulp then slammed it on to the table, rattling the plates.

Squiggy jerked awake and watched him with blurry eyes. “Huh? What’s going on? What’d you have to go and do that for?”

“Time to go, partner,” Lenny said. “We’ve got things to do and not a lot of time to do them.”

He smiled at the girl as she dropped the bill on the table and walked away with that same attention-grabbing walk. Lenny glanced at it and pulled the money out of his pocket adding a healthy tip. He left it on the table and pulled on his coat. Almost as an afterthought he scribbled his name and number on the paper.

“I don’t know why you bother to do that. They never call,” Squiggy said.

Lenny shrugged. “It only takes one, and she may be it. Besides, she’s pretty cute. I’d kick myself if I didn’t at least try.”

“Whatever floats your boat, my friend,” Squiggy replied. He rose and pulled on his own trencher. “Let’s get going. The idea of making the boss wait gives me the creeps.”

“Me too.” Lenny held the door for Squiggy and gave the cute waitress a friendly wave. “I’ll drive this time. I want to get used to maneuvering the spyder in case we ever need to move quickly.”

“Works for me…” Squiggy rounded to the passenger side of the contraption and swore. “Son-of-a…”

“What’s the matter?”

“Some clown went and painted graffiti on the side.”

“What does it say?” Lenny asked, walking around.

Squiggy shot his partner a dirty look. “You know me and words don’t get along so good. Why don’t you read them yourself?”

“Suit yourself, buster, but you got to practice if you want to get better.”

“I read just fine for me.” Squiggy climbed into the passenger seat and strapped himself in, folding his arms in a pout. “You look out for yourself.”

“Geez, Squiggy, are you a man or a little kid?”

The graffiti on the side read, “Spydrz suk butt knot az mutch az da guyz hoo uz ’em.”

Lenny looked up at his partner. “This guy spells worse than you. Shouldn’t be a problem cleaning it up, though. I’ve got some black paint back at the yard that’ll cover it, no problem.”

Squiggy refused to look over or even acknowledge Lenny’s comments.

“Whatever. You want to be childish, that’s fine with me. I’ll get some peace and quiet for a change.” He hopped into the driver’s seat and checked the machine’s controls. The boiler was all pressured up and the pilot light was lit so everything was fine. He activated the spyder, and it went from a lowered position to where it towered over the street.

Beside him, Squiggy was already asleep. With a shrug Lenny directed the machine to the street. A last look back showed the waitress watching him from the diner’s window. He smiled to himself. Maybe she would call. You never knew.

The trip back to the yard was quick and left lots of time. His wrist chronometer showed the time as 7:30 a.m. That would give them enough time to get the package and the boss’ fancy carriage ready to go to the dock. Then he and Squiggy could plant the package and leave the carriage for the boss’ next plan.

Lenny walked the spyder into the yard and maneuvered it to the parking garage. The dogs, big nasty-looking Rottweilers, jumped and snapped at the spyder’s legs, barking and yelping the entire way.

He activated the door and walked the spyder into the garage. The dogs stopped at the door. They knew better than to enter the boss’ lair. He thought about the flaming hamster. Were dogs smarter?

Felonious waited, his arms crossed. A flash of fear shot through Lenny before he managed to squash it.

“H-Hey boss,” he said, clambering down. “How are things going?”

Felonious glared at him for a solid minute, tapping his foot. “Stop being a fool! Where have you two been?”

“We grabbed some chow and a cup of joe.” Lenny shrugged. “We’re both pretty beat and needed the break.”

“I have a ray that will fix you right up—”

“No, that’s all right, Boss,” Lenny said, hastening to interrupt. “We’re both doing much better now.”

Felonious frowned. “All right then. Why are you two still here? Get over to the dock like I told you to.”

“You got it, Boss.” Squiggy, now wide-awake, waved at Lenny to get into the carriage.

He hopped into the driver’s seat.

Lenny was no sooner in the vehicle than Squiggy was roaring out of the building and the junkyard.

Four

Bennington was sitting in the kitchen, enjoying a cup of tea, when the entire manor shook. Dishes rattled on their racks and pots clanged together on their hooks. The tremor was immediately followed by the cracking report of what could only be a gunshot.

He sighed, placed his teacup on its saucer and rose from the small table sitting next to the kitchen hearth. He marched over to the telephone, picked up the earpiece and spun the crank.

A few moments later he heard a tinny-sounding male voice through the earpiece. “Number please?”

Bennington cleared his throat and spoke, enunciating each word. “Could you put me in contact with Marlborough Plasterers, please?”

“One minute, sir,” the man said.

Bennington waited until a new person bellowed into the telephone. “This is Marlborough Plasterers.”

“Good morning. This is Bennington from Filcher Manor speaking. We have need of your services. Today, if possible.”

The man chuckled. “Ah yes, sir. Has the master been practicing his shooting in the house again?”

Bennington frowned in disapproval at the question, but answered. “I believe there has been an accidental discharge of a weapon, if that is what you are referring to. Can you send a man over this morning?”

“Certainly, sir. I shall have one of my best men over by nine o’clock. Would that suit?”

“Excellent,” Bennington said. “Good-bye.” He returned the earpiece to its cradle and smoothed his waistcoat and trousers. Time to check the damages.

He trudged up the three flights of stairs then down a long corridor to one of his master’s many labs, stopping several times to straighten paintings or pick up fallen statuary. He ducked as several more gunshots shattered the morning. The frequency of his stops increased the nearer he got to the disturbance’s epicenter.

When he arrived he noted a large hole in the door. A call to the carpenter appeared to be necessary as well.

“My lord?” he called, careful not to stand in front of the door.

A deafening boom punctuated by another large piece of door exploding out into the corridor, answered his call.

“Blast it!” Felonious shouted from inside the room. “Bennington, is that you?”

“Yes, my lord,” Bennington answered. “I came to see if you required anything. May I enter?”

“Yes, yes, come in,” Felonious said, his voice filled with annoyance.

Bennington steadied himself and reached for the doorknob, which was hanging somewhat askew in the shattered door. Most of it was missing so he chose to pull it open by pulling at one of the holes in the door.

The door swung open with groaning complaint to reveal a room that was more war zone than laboratory. Felonious waited in the center of chaos, cradling a smoking double-barrel shotgun over his right arm.

“Sir, is everything all right?”

“Blasted rat is scarpering around my lab,” Felonious growled. He swung the gun toward a corner of the room and waited.

Bennington followed the man’s gaze. How Felonious was able to see anything in this disaster was a mystery.

“Bloody Baron, calling me and questioning my work. Sending his spies to watch over me!” Felonious grumbled as he scrutinized the remaining nooks and crannies throughout the room.

“Might I suggest you retire to laboratory three, my lord? I will summon an exterminator to deal with the vermin.”

Felonious blinked. “Yes. Yes, that might serve.” He straightened and extended the still-smoking shotgun to Bennington. “Please have this gun cleaned and sighted. I will take lunch in the lab precisely at noon.”

Bennington took the weapon. Imagine, being ordered to sight in a shotgun. It simply was not done. And the mention of the baron… that would bear further watching.

“As you wish, my lord,” Bennington said as Felonious wandered out of the destroyed laboratory in the exactly the wrong direction to reach laboratory three.

~ * ~

Waking from his nap, Jack had the sensation hours had passed, but had only been a few minutes. This was one reason he so loved his workshop. No matter how long he slept, his work was right at hand when he woke. The junkyard wouldn’t be open for business for a few more hours, and that would give him time to get up and do some tinkering. He rose from his cot—he had no use for an actual bed—and was immediately at his work bench.