Mercury Man (18 page)

He looked at her in astonishment. She smiled, but he felt the anger rising in him. Of course he had seen her! He had caught a glimpse of her in Tarn's film — this was Paul Daniel's daughter, a victim of her own father's betrayals. It was Paul Daniel's fault that she had lost the ability to speak.

Tom started to say something, but stopped as she wrote again on the pad.

He read:
I sent the ring
, looked at her, and managed a smile. She seemed to sense his conflicting feelings, so she took the pen and added,
I saw you at the Blanchard High essay contest in first year. I know exactly what you wrote. I still keep it
. Ad astra per aspera
— when I found that saying I thought of you. That was what your essay said to me.

He stared at her. Someone had noticed him. She'd been thinking of him all these years!

Once again she wrote and he read:
I saw you last year at Damato's. You didn't even notice me!

He couldn't believe this and shook his head with vigour. And just at that moment, he remembered. She had come in at lunchtime one day and he wanted to get over to her table to talk to her, but he was hesitant, and the place was so busy that Willy had sent him out for extra bread. When he got back — much later — she'd left, and he'd never even noticed that she couldn't talk!

Now he put his hands together and bowed his head as if asking her pardon. She laughed and wrote on the pad:
My father has been talking to you.

Tom shrugged his shoulders and waited for more. Now it would come, he thought, what a hard life he'd had, how we all had to be forgiving! Well, he wouldn't accept any of that, not even for her sake.

My father needs your help. Fabricon hurt him. They caused this.

Miranda touched her mouth with her fingers.

Tom shook his head in consternation. “But Tarn told us it was all your dad's fault. They seemed to have proof of everything.”

She shook her head, almost with violence, seized the pad, and wrote hastily.

Lies! They framed him. He needs your help. Come!

Before he could react she was out of her chair and beckoning him through the doorway and into an inner room.

He followed her as she climbed a wide staircase whose carpeting had grown shabby, perhaps because it was nearly as old as the ornately carved banister. He caught glimpses of heavy drapes, old oil paintings with little lights set on top, oriental rugs in profusion, and a huge stained glass window illuminated from behind and apparently depicting St. George defeating the dragon.

She led him down a second-floor corridor and stopped before an oak-panelled door. She turned to Tom with a cautioning look, then knocked.

A voice growled from inside: “So bring the hero in!”

Miranda pushed the door open and entered. Tom followed. An old man in a wheelchair rolled toward them.

“It's about time!” the man said. “I hope you enjoyed my labyrinth! But where's your grandfather? We thought Sandalls might be hanging around somewhere out there. Well, at least we got one of you. My name's Zak Daniel. Pardon me if I don't shake hands.”

He turned up his elbows — spreading out his arms as if he were conducting — and Tom saw that his fingers had been disfigured by some disease.

The man was dressed in a white collared shirt and wore an old-fashioned plaid bow tie. He was small and slender and obviously full of fire. Every time he spoke his long, curly white hair shook like a mane. Otherwise, he looked like a rich, retired jockey.

“Miranda and I were just getting acquainted,” Tom said. Zak Daniel's smile was kindly.

“Getting acquainted! I should hope so. Ever since we heard you were at odds with Fabricon we've been trying to corral you. Of course Miranda knew your talents way back when, right honey?”

Miranda blushed and nodded and the old man continued.

“I presume my son sent you. We saw you out there on Harbour Street just dawdling around. Couldn't figure out why. When you went into the old tunnel I told Miranda to set the machinery going. We figured you'd enjoy the ride, though she seemed a bit hesitant to put you in motion! I knew the machinery was fine. I keep it that way. Tried it out myself only last year. They don't make rides like that any more. Can't wait until we can open the place up again!”

Miranda waved her arms as if to slow him down. She looked pleadingly at Tom and then at her grandfather.

“I understand, honey. You want me to explain things properly to this young fella. Fine. Well, why don't you go get him a cold drink or something and I'll start to fill him in?”

He waved Tom into a chair as Miranda slipped out of the room.

The old man rolled his wheelchair into the open doorway, peered down the hall, then returned slowly to his place by the bed.

“It's not permanent, you know,” he whispered to Tom. “Not like this.” He held up his twisted hands. “I guess her father didn't tell you. She was one of the first victims of Fabricon. She's making progress every day and can say a few sentences now and then. But it's hard for her and she sure needs encouragement. I hope you can help her.”

Tom nodded eagerly. How he wanted to help her!

“Paul Daniel didn't send me here,” he explained. “I came because I got a ring.”

The old man whistled. “So Miranda sent it, did she? One of Marvin Cormer's old Mercury Man specials! Oh, I remember the magic of those rings! Kids loved them. But there aren't many left — you must be the first to get one in fifty years! I'll show you more wonders in a minute, though.”

He motored his chair closer to where Tom sat and fixed him with his sharp glance.

“First, let me fill you in — you seem a little doubtful about us. Anyway, you have a right to know what you're getting into.” Zak Daniel braced himself and closed his eyes for a second, as if he were fetching up difficult memories.

“About ten years ago my son went to work for the company that eventually became Fabricon. Tarn didn't work there then, nor that smarmy front man, Binkley, either. Paul was a psychologist with the firm — they were starting to hire them then. Needed ‘em for both external and internal reasons. Everything was fine until Tarn and Binkley came on board. Pretty soon my son found he wasn't being included in decisions that were part of his expertise. Hell, I don't understand that stuff, but as he put it to me, they were just quietly shutting him out. To compensate for that they promoted him.

“Time passed. Then a couple of years ago they began to recruit kids — all very community-minded, or so it seemed. They've always claimed they were just showing the kids films and updating them on the latest hardware and software, but Paul began to suspect otherwise. He suspected that they were using them as guinea pigs. That was when things got a bit complicated.”

Zak Daniel began to explain about later developments at Fabricon, things his son had noticed but couldn't quite make sense of, things he couldn't get straight answers about. As the old man spoke, moving his hands nervously over the buttons on his chair, Tom was aware that he was controlling his anger, trying to
tell everything in sequence and as coolly as possible, and not quite succeeding.

“In the end Paul decided that Tarn and Binkley didn't want him there at all. He couldn't figure out why they didn't fire him until one day they made him a proposition. They wanted to buy us out and take over the park here — part of their plans for expansion. They were trying to ingratiate themselves with Paul, but when they found out that I wouldn't sell, they started to play rough.”

Zak Daniel sniffed and cleared his throat.

“They framed my son — accused him of embezzling funds and stealing company secrets. There was a trial and he was convicted. But their case wasn't airtight — no wonder! — and he got a suspended sentence. He had to sit in jail for six months.

“They miscalculated when they went after my son. Yes sir! He had been all the while getting the goods on those swine. Not stealing secrets but tapping into their plan to create a —” Zak Daniel stopped in mid-sentence, shook his head, and continued. “Well, it's pretty horrible. But maybe Paul should explain it. I don't know how their technology works; I only know that it's immoral and won't do any good in this world. I'm all for blowing the whistle on them. It would be sweet revenge at that!”

Tom looked at the old man. What monstrous thing was Tarn planning? All his suspicions had been right!

He got up and paced across the room. “But why didn't your son just go after them? Why didn't he bring this up at his trial? He could have threatened to expose
them. They would have caved in if they'd known he had their secret.”

Zak Daniel shook his head. His mouth twisted into a bitter smile. “No way. He had to have evidence. They struck first, you see, and destroyed his credibility. He was thrown in jail. Then our brave Miranda went to work for them. She tried to infiltrate Fabricon, using her grandmother Cormer's first married name. She hoped to get the evidence to free her father, but Fabricon's program got her. They put her in the Pavlov Room and you see the results. When Paul got out of jail and learned what had happened, he wanted to blow up the place, but I persuaded him to wait. Then you came along.”

For a few minutes, Tom sat in silence. He had been led to Miranda by his longing for an adventure, for a porthole into a new reality. Now he had found a new realty, but it wasn't so wonderful. It was terrifying. But at least it gave him an opportunity. Miranda had cared for him even before he contacted her. They were destined for each other, it seemed. He felt a thrill of joy.

Now she appeared at the door with a tray. She smiled at him as she set out a pitcher of juice and three glasses. Zak Daniel seemed to have buried himself for a moment in evil memories.

Tom went over and patted the old man's twisted hands. Miranda looked agitated. She paced the room, pointing to her lips and attempting to speak. She got out a few syllables, a word. “Help,” she said. Then she sat down and scribbled something in her notebook.

My father has been watching Fabricon. He needs to get in there. You did it. You got in. You've got to help him. He knows where to find the evidence.

Tom read this with mounting excitement, then, hesitating for a moment, handed the notebook to her grandfather, who glanced at it quickly and said, “That's exactly it. As you see, I can't help much, and Paul wouldn't risk Miranda. But you and your grandfather — now that's a different story. If you were willing to help him …”

Tom remembered Tarn's crazy speech at Damato's. With mounting anger he recalled how the scientist had tried to paint Paul Daniel as a thief and to turn Tom against him. Conditioning. That's what his grandfather had rightly called it, but it was worse than that. Tarn was using everyone, playing on their weaknesses, and for one reason only:
to create something monstrous.

Miranda poured more juice for her grandfather. Tom watched her, aware now of what she must have suffered, of the traumas that had deprived her temporarily of her speech. At that moment Tom could have killed Tarn on the spot.

“I'd be happy to help your son, Mr. Daniel. I'll do anything I can to expose Tarn and his company.”

Miranda crossed the room, and before Tom knew what was happening, she kissed him on the cheek.

He blushed, and the old man in the wheelchair nodded his head in satisfaction and told him, “I'd kiss you, too, except you wouldn't like it as much. … Now there's something I have to show you. I'm glad you sent Tom the ring, Miranda.”

Zak Daniel winked at Tom as his granddaughter turned shyly away. The boy was standing in a quiet kind of ecstasy, the scent of Miranda's hair lingering on his cheek and forehead.

“You know, Tom, it may not look like much, but this place has great potential. When I married Mary Cormer after poor Marvin's death we made some awesome plans. We were going to have an entertainment empire, Cormer Incorporated. After we developed Mercury Man Comics we were going to refurbish this place. We had some ideas for new rides and things — a few of them later developed by Disney. We were going to be rich, and Marvin's name was going to be a household word all over America. … Unfortunately, none of it ever happened.”

Tom waited for an explanation, but Zak Daniel simply shook his head. His glance was turned downward; he stared at his twisted hands as if they had somehow betrayed him. At that moment the past seemed like a weight on the old man, pressing hard on his shoulders, reminding him of missed opportunities, failed prospects.

Miranda wrote something on the pad and shoved it under her grandfather's eyes. He stared at it for a moment, then looked up and nodded.

“By golly, you're right! It's not too late yet! What would I do without you, Miranda?” His machine whirred into motion. “C'mon, Tom, I've got something to show you.”

He cruised around his enormous bed, past a great oak dresser and an ancient standing lamp, and stopped at a door marked with a small brass plaque. Stepping
closer, Tom saw that the plaque read: “MERCURY HOUSE ENTERPRISES.”

Miranda came over, took Tom's hand, and squeezed it. Her dark eyes were full of excitement, and Tom was sure he was about to be shown something special.

When Zak Daniel swung the door back and switched on the light, Tom saw that they were in a kind of gallery, a high-ceilinged room spacious enough to hold a couch and tables, as well as an enormous array of bulky cabinets and piles of storage boxes. A giant TV was built into one wall, and along the other wall were hung large full-colour posters. Amazed, Tom recognized at once the familiar figure of Mercury Man, in full tilt against Nazis and gangsters, his powerful fists battling for peace and justice against a host of slouching, grinning enemies.

“There he is.” Zak Daniel pointed proudly at the illustrations. “We had these posters made after Marvin's death. And in those cabinets we have all of Marvin's drawings — he had a host of ideas for new creations. Most of the original issues of the comic are there, too. I've never let them out of my sight. I have all kinds of memorabilia here. Some good old TVs, windup 78 speed players, old cameras, you name it. In some of the space back there we have stuff from the park, too. I've kept just about everything. Got a couple of fellows who keep the machinery running for me. They like to ride on it. They're sworn to secrecy, but I'm gonna cut them in when we get started again. Now, look at those photographs! Here's Marvin with Mary, and later with me.”