The Calorium Wars Page 14

  “Since I know how clever you are, my dear, I know you must be wondering how I expect to escape the cordon of aerial defenses which Prince Yurevskii has erected around his capital.” He grinned.

  “The answer is simplicity itself—Before we left I simply spoke with the Prince on this vessel’s voicewire and requested a laissez-passer and a senior command position in Little Russia’s Aerial Navy in return for the return of the battleship Delta in whose theft McCool had forced you to be an accessory.”

  Unable to restrain herself, Becky growled deep in her throat, struggling against her bonds like a chained mastiff. Ubaldo, however, was so deep into his internal drama that he didn’t notice her at all; instead, his face darkening with resentment, he continued his monologue:

  “Damn Stanton and his infernal arrogance! I had actually begun to speak to him on the voicewire, ready to offer him McCool and the Freedom Party, tied up in a neat little bow and ready for collection, when he had the gall to hang up on me! So what if the Little Russian Aerial Navy had just begun a surprise attack on the City? It was unforgivably rude!”

  Becky turned pale as parchment: what attack on the City? This time, fortunately, Ubaldo noticed:

  “Forgive me, darling,” he added hastily, “of course you couldn’t have known, you were already resting, here on the ship. Fortunately Yurevskii’s pilots dropped their bombs exclusively in the poorer areas of the city, along the waterfront—clearly he meant the attack primarily as a warning of what he could do if Stanton didn’t sue for peace. I’m sure your father is quite well.”

  Becky closed her eyes, dizzy with relief and equally dizzy with the urge to do immediate harm to Ubaldo.

  Oblivious to everything but his personal saga, Ubaldo continued excitedly: “What a man is Prince Yurevskii, what a genius! I tell you, Becky darling, life as I understand it means duty, conquest, the surmounting of all obstacles, and here is the very man in whose service I can achieve these things—not just for myself, but for you, for us!”

  He held out his arms in a gesture of entreaty: “For together, darling, once we are married, we shall have everything a man and a woman could dream of: love, children, a chance for you to fulfill yourself as a woman and I as a man.”

  He knelt down beside her, his voice quivering with emotion: “You shall manage our domestic world, cooking and cleaning and entertaining our friends, caring for the children when they get sick, getting them ready for school and church when they’re well. During the winter you shall make cakes and pies for the church socials and check the children’s lessons, and since I know how clever you are I know how careful you will be not to offend my opinions or those of our neighbors, to be prudent in all your conduct so that I may be easy about you in my mind.”

  “And I, in turn, promise I shall always be kind to you, I shall never swear in your presence, and I shall always be sure to clean my boots when I enter the house and be true to my marital vows!”

  Fortunately for Becky’s sanity, at that moment a klaxon went off with a shockingly harsh screech and Ubaldo leapt to his feet and ran to the enormous view port that ran above the Delta’s control panels. There in the distance, illuminated by the Delta’s brilliant carbon-arc spotlights, they could see a flight of Little Russian attack flyers approaching with the inexorable swiftness of a swarm of wasps and Ubaldo began waving his arms back and forth above his head to make sure they would see him. Slamming a knob that stopped the klaxon in mid-screech, Ubaldo turned back towards Becky, his arms spread exuberantly, his face wreathed in smiles:

  “At last, my beloved Becky! At last our new life begins!”

  Santa Monica

  October 31, 1877

  Chapter Fourteen

  The little tableau on the lower end of Santa Monica Boulevard was starting to acquire spectators; so far, just a fussy old lady walking her dog and asking questions that nobody paid any attention to, but Liam was afraid that if too many more bystanders showed up the copper would feel compelled to show everybody what a big man he was and he was already getting much too big a kick out of Chen’s distress at having a loaded pistol pressed against his head:

  “What do you think, Jimmy,” the copper chortled, tapping Chen’s head playfully with the .45’s muzzle like a cat batting a captive mouse, “should I just save everybody a lot of fuss and feathers and blow this Chinaman’s head off now?”

  The officer named Jimmy looked around worriedly: “Come on, Horace, first thing you know we’ll have a crowd of rubbernecks getting underfoot. Let’s just take ’em to the station and hand ’em over to the Chief.”

  Horace leaned closer to Chen and sneered at him as Chen glared back coldly. “Too bad you weren’t here for the riots, Chinaman! We went from one end of Nigger Alley to the other till we had eighteen of you ginks hanging from the lamp posts. ’Course, that was back in the days when the city was run by white men instead of carny barkers and flim-flam artists!”

  Just as Liam was about to gamble on a jiu jitsu foot sweep to knock Horace away from Chen, the old lady’s dog snapped at Jimmy’s pants leg and the copper made the mistake of trying to shoo him away:

  “Scram, you!” he hissed, taking a swipe at the dog with his uniform cap. Immediately the dog—a big mutt with a torn ear—bared its teeth and growled. The threatening sound seemed to spook Horace, who looked alarmed and cocked the Colt, the snick-clack! of its hammer sending a sudden chill down Liam’s spine.

  Liam glared helplessly at the pistol, his anger and frustration focusing on it with no specific intent, but enough intensity to melt steel. Despite his brave words to Crazy Horse, he knew he would always have to bite his tongue whenever he ran into some dumb copper that thought a badge and a six-gun made him God. Ever since he’d been a little nipper running around the sidewalks of Five Points he’d had to kowtow to these morons and by jingo it was enough to give a rhinoceros the pip! Liam felt a shooting pain behind his eyes and in spite of himself he pictured Horace’s Colt turning to molten metal in his hand. MELT! he thought as the pain in his head tightened, MELT, YOU PIECE OF SHITE!

  Which, a moment later, was precisely what happened: to Liam’s total stupefaction the pistol abruptly softened and ran over the copper’s hand like candle wax overflowing a sconce:

  “EEEAAARRGGGHHH!”

  With a bellow of agony, Horace threw the distorted glob of metal to the sidewalk and shook his hand frantically, frightening the dog into attacking Jimmy’s leg again, this time with more success. As the frightened mutt lunged free of his mistress and sank his teeth into the copper’s leg, Crazy Horse simultaneously reached out and dug his fingers into Jimmy’s shoulder, speaking softly and rapidly in Sioux.

  “HELP!” screamed the terrified copper, trying simultaneously to shake the dog free from his leg and the Indian free from his shoulder, but before he could succeed with either, his eyes suddenly widened with shock and he pulled sharply away from Crazy Horse, turning towards Horace and reaching out with an expression of stunned entreaty:

  “Rrrrrrrr …!” he whined. Horace’s jaw dropped as he watched Jimmy’s face changing, bristling with fur, his nose and jaw lengthening into a snout. The old lady and Horace both emitted screams of panic as Jimmy reached out with both paws and tried to grab his partner’s arm. Unfortunately for Horace, as he tried to push Jimmy away the contact seemed to transmit some strange force that caused the second lawman to begin his own transformation, progressing in seconds from a bulbous, jowly beagle head to big, clumsy paws, one of which seemed to be badly burned. Horace sank to the ground with a defeated groan, turned his muzzle up towards the sky and howled mournfully:

  “AROOOOOOOOOOOO!”

  “Sweet Jesus and Mary and all the Saints preserve us!” screamed the old lady, spinning on her heel and taking off up Santa Monica Boulevard at a clip that was almost too much for her dog, which was barely able to keep up behind her, trailing its leash and barking frantically.

  For a moment or two Liam and Chen and Crazy Horse stood and surveyed their totally confo
unded and demoralized enemies with deep, ungenerous pleasure. Then Liam forced himself to shake the moment off:

  “OK, boys,” he said, “we don’t want to be around when the reporters start getting here. Let’s buzz along to Henshey’s and get ourselves some new duds.”

  “Right,” sighed Chen.

  “Absoliutno!” said Crazy Horse in Russian.

  Without any further ado the three companions set off briskly towards the department store, Horace’s howls echoing mournfully behind them and Jimmy’s frenzied yelping serving as an obbligato.

  Half an hour later the trio emerged from Henshey’s and stopped for a moment in front of the window display to tug at their jackets and straighten their neckties, surveying themselves with obvious satisfaction. All three had chosen conservatively styled lightweight suits in dark fabrics, with matching vests and white linens; all three were sporting smart new fedora hats.

  “That’s more like it,” Liam said with a touch of smugness.

  “I wonder if I should have tried the bowler instead,” Chen muttered, tugging at the fedora’s brim in a vain attempt to make it look more conservative.

  Crazy Horse, who would have been happier in deerskins, watched them for a moment with a derisive grin and then punched Liam on the shoulder:

  “Come on, ladies,” he said in Russian, “you can play with your new bonnets after we get some dinner.”

  As they set off down the street towards the hotels along the ocean front, Liam pointed to the crowd that had gathered around the scene of their recent adventure. Several more of the tidy little white-and-blue police vehicles had pulled up, accompanied by an ambulance and a vehicle with wire-mesh windows that said “Santa Monica Pound” on the side in large gold letters.

  “Looks like quite a party,” Liam said. “You think they’re taking Horace and Jimmy to the Pound?”

  As if in answer, a chorus of furious barking arose from the middle of the gathering, which widened abruptly as the spectators backed away from something, chattering excitedly.

  Unable to resist the temptation, Liam and his companions hurried down the street to join the other gawkers.

  “Why such much barking?” Crazy Horse asked a bystander in his distinctive English.

  A tall, rustic-looking type with a prominent Adam’s apple, the man shook his head and gave Crazy Horse a slightly queasy look.

  “Cain’t say as I hold much with sideshows,” he said, “them coppers got what looks like a couple geeks escaped from Barnum’s Circus. Or leastways a couple great big dogs dressed like coppers, hard to say which.” He shook his head and spat on the ground disgustedly:

  “I’ll tell you this,” he said with sudden heat, poking Crazy Horse’s shoulder for emphasis, “P. T. should oughter quit that Circus stuff now he’s governor of the Republic, it ain’t dignified!”

  “Good thought,” said Liam with a judicious nod. Turning to the others he added: “Maybe we’d better be thinking about business too.”

  Tipping his fedora to the rustic Liam resumed his stroll towards Ocean Avenue, flanked by Chen and Crazy Horse.

  “How do you want to do this tomorrow?” he asked. “We need to locate Ambrose’s family and we need to figure out how to get Custer out of Serra Castle. And we should decide how to deal with this bulletin Stanton’s office sent to the police. Do you want to split up? Or do we stick together?”

  The three of them walked in silence, thinking it over as they approached the corner of Santa Monica Boulevard and Ocean Avenue.

  Chen spoke first: “It might be best if we take separate paths to begin with. Crazy Horse and I need to start looking for my family in Chinatown, and people there are far less likely to talk if we have a white man with us. Conversely, McCool, you should be the one to pay a call on Governor Barnum tomorrow, under the pretext of bearing a personal message from Custer’s family. Tell Barnum the family has asked you to see how he’s faring and see if he’ll give you a laissez-passer to visit the prison. And remember that we’re in a hurry if we mean to have Custer help us against Stanton’s forces in the Apacheria.”

  Liam started to ask Chen something, then caught himself as he wrestled with some idea, then shrugged and started over again:

  “OK, Ambrose, I have to ask you. Can’t you do something about springing him with all your sorcery—you know, sit in the hotel bar over a nice stein of beer and say spells so Custer pops up next to us asking for a pickled egg and a shot of rye? Do we have to go through that whole bureaucratic rigmarole instead?”

  Chen and Crazy Horse exchanged an amused look.

  “You’ll learn,” Chen said in an almost avuncular tone. “Magic can’t be worked at long distance. Or if it can, we don’t know how. We’ll have the best chance of getting Custer out safe and sound if we’ve been there to do a reconnaissance first. Tiresome though it may be, we need to start with the bureaucracy. And in any event, while you’re talking to Barnum you should have a chance to answer your third question, about Stanton’s bulletin to the police.” He spread his hands: “You’re a plausible fellow; perhaps you can convince the Great Showman that it’s all a misunderstanding.”

  Liam gave that thought a small smile. “Maybe. It all depends on how he feels about Secretary Stanton.”

  As they reached the corner they stopped and looked up and down Ocean Avenue. There were plenty of small guest houses and inns along the Avenue fronting the Palisades. But the hotel that caught Liam’s eye was on the other side of the street, a few hundred yards beyond the glittering fantasyland of the Santa Monica Pier. Nearly as long as a football field and several stories tall, facing the city so that its myriad brightly lit windows seemed like a continuation of the Pier next door, it was grand and stately and welcoming all at once, and Liam’s mind was made up the moment he saw it:

  “That’s for us,” he said to the others, “let’s go!”

  Crazy Horse and Chen exchanged a sort of mutual wince, both shaking their heads at once.

  “Ah, Lev Frentsisovich …” Crazy Horse said in a dubious tone that made Liam look at him curiously.

  “What?” Liam said crossly, in no mood for pettifogging arguments.

  “That’s the Arcadia Hotel, my friend. That’s where Old Los Anga-leece and its nearest and dearest hang their hats, it’s not for the likes of us.”

  “Says who?” Liam said.

  And with a pugnacious set of his jaw he tugged his fedora to a rakish angle and set off towards the hotel at a rate so brisk that the others had to trot to keep up.

  The reception area of the Arcadia seemed to Liam to be as lofty and spacious as Grand Central Station, with a vast staircase rising towards the upper floors and a cathedral-sized stained glass window at each landing. Dimly visible in the distance to his right and left were the dining room, a conservatory and a ballroom, and in the central area opposite the entrance was a comfortable and uncluttered collection of armchairs, settees and occasional tables, with scattered newspapers, books and smoking accessories that gave it a sitting-room feel despite its size.

  Liam looked around and expelled a sigh of pure pleasure:

  “Now this is a class joint! Come on, admit it—this place makes the Fifth Avenue Hotel look like a Greenwich Village fleabag!”

  Chen and Crazy Horse followed his gaze with markedly less enthusiasm—especially as they took in the guests strolling towards the dining room in full evening wear.

  Chen spoke first: “Don’t you think we might be … ah … just a trifle under-dressed?”

  Liam spread his hands indignantly: “Are you serious? We look like we just stepped out of one of those fashion-plates in Harper’s Magazine! Come on, let’s go sign in.”

  He set off towards the desk with total self assurance, followed uneasily by Chen and Crazy Horse.

  “Yes, sir?” the desk clerk said with a faintly disapproving inflection. He was tall and thin, dressed like an expensive undertaker and a little too perfectly groomed, his long face and slender fingers fishbelly white and his carefully pl
ucked eyebrows arched with disdain.

  “How may I … ah … help you?” he added with obvious insincerity, looking around at the same time as if he were hoping to catch sight of a hotel detective.

  Liam’s expression was darkening steadily as he read between the lines.

  “Easy,” he said in a flat tone that would have frozen any New York hard guy, “just sign us in and give us our room keys.”

  “Ah … I’m afraid that won’t be possible, sir,” the clerk said with patently bogus regret, “at the moment the hotel is completely occupied and I don’t believe we’ll have a vacancy in the near future.”

  “No kidding?” Liam said between his teeth. “Everybody’s in town for Halloween, huh?”

  The clerk’s lips drew together in a prim little rosebud: “I’m afraid I don’t quite take your meaning, sir.”

  “You don’t have to take it,” Liam said in a tone that could split granite, “I’ll give it to you for free. If you don’t sign us in right now my friends and I will be very upset.”

  Confident in his unassailability, the clerk heaved a long-suffering sigh. “Very well, sir, since you force me to make my meaning clearer, it is a policy of the Arcadia that guests may only be of the … ah … white persuasion.”

  “‘Persuasion’”? Unable to restrain himself, Liam burst out laughing at the ridiculous euphemism. Then he leaned closer and took the clerk by the knot of his cravat. “Why don’t you let me persuade you a little?”

  Chen was rolling his eyes and Crazy Horse reached out and laid his hand on Liam’s shoulder: “Lev Frentsisovich,” he began, but Liam held up his hand to silence him:

  “Shush!” he said emphatically. Turning back to the clerk he continued: “My Indian friend here is a famous Sioux war chief, and my Chinese friend is the Jade Emperor’s closest pal. Are you persuaded yet?”

  “Really!” snorted the clerk in a disgusted tone. “I’m afraid if you won’t leave on your own I’ll have to call for assistance!”

  With that, he took hold of the earpiece of the voicewire apparatus and started to lift it to his ear, but before he could complete the motion his arm froze in mid-air and he stared at the earpiece with a horrified expression as Liam peered intently at his hand, smiling. It had struck him the moment the clerk lifted the earpiece that there was something amazingly sinuous about the wire, something that he wanted to share with Chen and Crazy Horse if he could just get a handle on it …