Nathan Yocum - Automatic Woman

I read a treatise on the properties of malleable metals, mercury, lithium, potassium, sodium, rubidium, caesium. Learned books on all the metals that are liquid at room temperature, their properties, their appropriate containment, their dangerous propensities. Fascinating stuff.

I hired a tube locker, this time to store my guns and their beautiful holster belts.

I taped Saucy Jack’s knife behind my right calf, above the boot line. Just in case.

I tore into the lining of my new coat and placed Dr. Doyle’s syringes on the bottom edge. Also, just in case.

In short, I spent the day putting together the pieces of my plan. Right or wrong, I was going to show Barnes and Darwin what I had to offer to their little game.

My preparations ended at five o’clock, leaving me ample time for a plate of lamb chops, mashed peas, and two pints of Irish lager. The nervous energy of the unknown and unknowable coursed through my veins. My skin was electric. I could not wait for the time to pass, for the show to begin. The beers took no edge out of me; rather they made me angrier, more aggressive. I ordered another, and another.

Seven o’clock found me at the Bow Street Firm facing a similar routine with Miss Penny Walker. I strolled in with a cock in my step, like I was the mayor of Bollocksville. My Cherokee name was Four-Pints Brave. Miss Walker got all flustered and called for security escorts in all appropriate haste.

Bell and Silver were giving me the friendly frisk within a minute.

“Where’d you leave your guns, Jolly?” Bell asked.

“Don’t play coy, Bell. You know they’re in Mrs. Silver’s knickers drawer.” I gave Silver a lecherous wink and kissed the air by his cheek. Silver centered himself to me and puffed his bird chest and shoulders. Despite being eight centimeters my junior he made quite a show of it.

“Come now, love,” I told him. “I’ve got a date with the big man. We’ll have our day.”

“That we will,” Silver replied. He gave my cheek a little slap. “That we will, Jolly.”

I don’t think the bugger knew how close we were to our moment of reckoning. But that little slap was just enough to get my blood boiling. If it weren’t for the necessity of carefully laid plans, I may have lost my fragile and tipsy temper.

We followed our path, same as before. Lift, third floor, the beauty and splendor of the manager’s lobby. I broke from routine.

“Cheers, boys. To our long life and working relationship.” I reached into my trouser pocket and pulled out a fist full of pound coins. I gave a good toss, spinning a cloud of currency into the depths of the fountain, right at the feet of bucking Pegasus himself. I laughed uproariously and fell against Bell. He grabbed the shoulders of my coat and I let him catch a whiff of my beery breath.

“That was a bit dramatic,” Bell said.

“I’ve always wanted to do that,” I replied and smiled my best, not-completely-sober smile. Silver made a move to fish the coins out, adjusted priorities in his mind, and realized I was the bigger fish of this equation. The coins could wait; we had a meeting with the big man. I watched four silver quid and a gel-encased ten gram plug of liquid metal sink to the bottom of the fountain. We walked past the defiled sculpture pond. Cold sweat beaded my brow. In my mind I felt the water dissolving the gel, ticking seconds on a clock of inevitable violent chemical reaction. I was sure the liquid metal was caesium. Caesium explodes in water.

Stoker had ordered me to spike the fountain on my way out, I guess as an insurance of clearance. I liked my way much better.

Lord Barnes rose upon my entry, not to shake hands but to mix himself a fresh drink. Vodka, purple stuff, ice. He was dressed like Prince Charming for the ball in a lavender tuxedo, tails and ruffles, all very fair.

Bell pushed me down into the same King Louis chair.

“Well then?” Barnes said in between sips of his drink.

I produced a folded collection of papers from my jacket pocket and flung them onto Barnes’ crystalline desk.

“Careful, your Lordship. You might not enjoy what I’ve put in my report.” I said this to ensure his full attention.

Lord Barnes grabbed up my papers. He unfolded Darwin’s decoy map, the one pointing out Nouveau’s location in Stokes Poges, then he unfolded the porter’s letter, complete with a little addition all my own.

To His Right Honorable Barnes,

I have been instructed to inform you that Jacques Nouveau is at the Franklin Brothers Circus in Stoke Poges. False map included. Mr. Nouveau is actually located somewhere in the confines of Central Bureaucracy. I have evidence of this, as does one or both of the gentlemen behind me. You have a rat in your house, get to cleaning.

Lord Barnes sat behind his desk and set both the letter and his cocktail down. He reached under his seat and produced the single largest six-shot pistol I’ve ever seen. It was more a cannon than a shooter. The barrel was etched with gold leaf Celtic labyrinths. Barnes thumbed the hammer.

“Mr. Fellows, every man is in the search for greatness. There are four factors to greatness: Breeding, schooling, luck, and specialty.” Lord Barnes pointed his massive gun at my chest.

“You are not great. As far as I can tell you are a specialist in the art of making trouble and you possess a bit of luck. But these two items alone do not make a great man.” He waved his pistol at Silver and Bell. “These men aren’t great either. But they don’t have to be. They are under my care and I am a great man.”

Lord Barnes stood up. Sweat dripped from my wrists to my hands. I envisioned reaching for the pig sticker taped to my leg. What would it take to rip it free and plunge it in that man’s neck before he blasted a hole through my chest?

“I have breeding, schooling, luck. But do you know my specialty?”

I shook my head. The coin! Come on, ignite you Christ -forsaken coin! Reap chaos, sound the alarm, destroy! Do whatever it is Darwin planned for you to do!

“Don’t play dim, Jolly. What is my specialty?”

“You have information to blackmail every other important person in London?”

“That’s true, but that’s a side effect of my specialty. You see, Mr. Fellows, I find the truth about people, their secrets, because I know the difference between the truth and a lie.”

Lord Barnes pressed the barrel of his giant shooter against my chest. The coin! The coin!

“Lies live in men’s eyes and I can see them, every one, every time.” Barnes looked up to Bell and Silver. “No man can hide a lie completely, the eyes, the actions of the hands, changes in speech. These betray all and I can see each and every one. No man keeps his secrets from me, and for this reason I am a great man. Allow me to demonstrate.” Lord Barnes turned his head to Bell and Silver. “Jacques Nouveau is at Central Bureaucracy. Gather the maskers.”

Bell turned to leave the office. Silver paused, just for a moment, like he had to process Barnes’ order a second time. Like he’d expected Barnes to say something different. I saw it, Barnes saw it. Barnes swung the barrel of his cannon at Silver’s chest and pulled the trigger. The explosion from the barrel sent me reeling out of the chair with hands over my ears. Both of my ears rang and buzzed and hummed. I turned my head in time to see Silver slump against my chair. Light showed through the hole in chest. Crimson syrup poured out of him onto the chair, onto the rug. Silver got his day of reckoning, not a moment too soon.

Bell stood awestruck, mouth open, flabbergasted by the events that had transpired. Barnes gave him a hard slap with his free hand.

“Gather the boys! We’re on the job.”

Barnes pulled me up by my jacket and pushed me ahead of him. My ears still rang. I know his Lordship was barking orders at me, but they were lost in the hums and buzzes. Bell, Barnes and I entered the plush lobby. I imagined we were on our way to the elevators. Maybe I would survive; maybe Barnes was convinced of my loyalty. These questions were rendered moot when the fountain exploded.