Mons angels, p.9
Mon's Angels, page 9
“That is thanks to another Spy-related skill of mine, [Thorough Recall]. It works like a photograph, of sorts, and I can access information verbatim, as required.”
“[Total Recall]?”
“[Thorough Recall]. I see that look on your face. You find this amusing.”
“It just reminds me of an old movie.”
“The kind you watch on a box?”
“Right. Or in a theater. Anyway, your skill sounds like a spy camera without having an actual camera.”
“I suppose that is one way to look at it.”
They stopped and looked out over a small pond. The surface of the dark water reflected the park’s few gaslamps along the path.
Blair sighed and said, “I feel guilty, Ripley, about some of the things I’ve kept from you due to my enhanced class. I . . . skulk around a lot, usually at night, and engage in all sorts of unsavory pretensions. It’s not very lady-like, I’m afraid.”
She looked up at him to gauge his reaction. But he continued smiling at her, seemingly unperturbed, so she continued.
“I’ve . . . I’ve done horrid things, like pretending to be a prostitute. I never actually slept with a client, mind you. I usually knocked them out or poisoned them before it went very far. But . . . I know what it’s like to live that life. And many others equally sordid, equally squalid.”
He smiled even more at this, but sobered when he saw the look on her face.
Rip said, “I can see this troubles you, that you’re worried about how I’d feel about that. I understand you and the Infiltrators often pretend to be someone you’re not as part of your class. That’s okay. It doesn’t bother me.”
“Are you certain?” she asked, softly.
“Yup. So long as you stay true to me, I don’t care what you did or do as a Spy. Well, you know . . . don’t go sleeping with the enemy or anything.”
She hugged him then, and he could feel the tension releasing in her body.
“No, of course not. I take our marriage vows very seriously.”
“Good. I think you know the sisters kissed me to bestow their boons on me. Before today, that’s about the farthest I’ve gone with any girl on this world.”
“Mm. It’s a shame you shan’t be getting any more of their boons.”
It was her turn to give him a wry smile.
They resumed walking, hand in hand.
Thoughtfully, he said, “Spies don’t give any boons for sleeping with them, do they?”
“No. Not unless they’re vampire spies. But I can make it up to you in other ways, believe me.”
They finally arrived back at the townhouse at a very late hour. Blair unlocked the wicket gate and then the front door.
Inside they found Nancy fast asleep on one of the couches, snoring softly. Rip shut the door lightly, careful not to wake the maid up.
Blair moved silently across the room, and Rip realized she was using a [Stealth] skill. He activated his own and followed her into the bedroom. They shut the door quietly.
Blair sat down on the bed and smiled, a clear invitation. Rip went to the sink and began taking off his suit and tie.
“You know, I’m going to have to get used to not sleeping in the guest cottage. I’ve gotten kind of attached to that place. I guess it could serve as our bat cave from here on out.”
He smiled and turned, heading for the bed.
“That’s another cultural reference you won’t get.”
Blair was still on the bed, fully clothed but fast asleep.
He stopped and chuckled, empathy for his exhausted wife spreading across his face. He got in on his side of the bed, slipped under the covers, and reached across her to turn out the light.
18
Blair and Rip both woke up refreshed in the morning. They made it to breakfast late.
Nancy worried about them while waiting. Had it been just the mistress, she would have knocked on the door and inquired after her health. But now she knew Sir Ripley was in there, in the bedroom. So, she sat down at the breakfast table and hoped they would be out before the food grew cold.
About the time she was thinking of starting over on the food and making something fresh, they both walked into the breakfast nook looking fresh and relaxed.
“Good morning, Nancy! What have you made us today? Bacon? I love bacon! Rip, she makes the most excellent bacon.”
Nancy’s eyes narrowed.
“You never compliment my cooking, dear.”
“I don’t? I’m so sorry, Nancy. Your skills in the kitchen are divine!”
Blair gave the woman a little squeeze hug, shocking Nancy almost as much as her chipper morning mood.
She sat and scooted her chair closer to Rip’s and picked up a slice of bacon off the plate.
“Try this,” she said, feeding it to him. He chewed on it and they smiled at one another.
Nancy leaned back in her chair and said, “Oh! I know what this is. This is love. You two love each other, don’t you?”
They smiled across the table at her.
“Nancy, be a dear and put on a fresh pot of tea.”
“Oh! Right away. I almost forgot myself, you two were so long in getting here.”
She bustled off to the kitchen.
Blair leaned over and kissed him when she left the room.
Rip said, “Sorry, I’ve got bacon breath.”
“I love bacon.”
They left the house half an hour later, leaving Nancy to clean up. She smiled too, when they left, watching them through a window as they walked hand-in-hand to the gate.
“Ah, true love! She has found it. That’s a tad unusual this day and age, especially amongst the gentry!”
Rip and Blair walked down the sidewalk together. They avoided holding hands in public, since displays of affection were looked down upon in polite society. But it seemed obvious to anyone passing by that they held one another’s hearts.
They soon caught a cab and settled in for the ride to Doctors’ Commons.
Rip said, “Should we head over to the company headquarters? I feel responsible, even though I haven’t the slightest idea how to actually run a company.”
“The company will take care of itself. Father has good people in charge, notwithstanding that dreadful Mr. Threadgill. No, we need to check in at RVS first. It’s been too long since we’ve been there, and the others will be expecting us.”
The cab dropped them off at the entrance to Doctors’ Commons. They passed through a short line to the gardens and walked along the wide path toward the large building at the end.
To their left, the royal offices waited, guards in red livery and tall black furry hats diligently patrolling the entrance. To their right, the Lyceum’s buildings remained less guarded, although several police officers wandered around keeping an eye on things.
As they approached the RVS building, Rip noted something different about the roof. Three large machinegun installations had been added, a nod to the dangers of aerial assault after the last black airship attack on Doctors’ Commons.
“That’s nice,” he said, pointing it out to Blair. “But I’m not sure how well nine-fifties will do against enhanced airships.”
“It’s better than nothing, which is what we had before.”
Inside, a receptionist greeted them and gave them a room number for their team to meet. She promised she would direct the others there, upon arrival.
Just a few minutes after finding the room, the Verez sisters walked in. Both wore glum expressions on their faces.
Rip looked between them and Blair, noting that Blair gave them a slightly superior smile, as if winning a recent victory.
A long silence drew out as the women stared at one another.
He said, “I hope we can all keep getting along together. We’ve helped each other out in the field numerous times. Blair and I being married shouldn’t change things in our professional relationship. Right?”
“Oh, of course not Ripley,” Liza drawled in her slight Hungarian accent.
“We are so happy for you both,” Hilda said, with happiness evident in neither her tone nor face.
Twig and Chance walked in about then, tipping imaginary hats to all present.
“Congrats to the mister and missus,” Chance said. He smiled and seemed genuinely happy for them, unlike the vampires.
Twig said, “Sorry for your loss, Lady Brooke. Uh, Kat Coulter, I mean. But I’m happy for your recent union.”
The men sat down and Rip stood to address the group.
“I filed the paperwork with RVS, and we are now officially a team. We’re a bit unusual at six, although it’s not unheard of.”
“People don’t like to split the earnings too much,” Chance said with a shrug.
Twig smiled and said, “That just means we have to take on higher paying missions.”
“Speaking of which,” Rip said, “we need to discuss what our first mission will entail.”
Twig cleared his throat and said, “I took the liberty of looking into the Luddites a bit during our time off, on account of they’ve been such a bother to Sir Brooke and his family.”
Blair nodded and said, “That’s right. ‘Bother’ is a good way to put it. When I first introduced him to Ripley, some Luddites rode down our carriage. Lucky for us, they were using older guns and ammunition. They killed our driver’s horses, but other than that Ripley and I were able to handle them.”
“Well, I heard they was using modern guns on the factory hit, and that little fact got me to wondering. So, I’ve some contacts there. I’m sure Chancey has some, too.”
“Not with the Luddies, no,” Chance said. “They’re zealots, that lot. I stick with street gangs. They’re far more rational criminals.”
“Right. Anyway, I checked with my contacts and something strange is going on within the Luddites’ organization. They’ve always been antagonistic toward industrialists, but lately it’s gotten much worse.”
Rip said, “Why? What’s changed?”
“New leadership,” Twig said. “From what my contact told me, a woman named Griselda Belle moved in and whacked their old leader. She has a muscleman who does most of the dirty work, and he helps keep the other Luddies in line for her.”
“Wallace Biggin. We’ve met him a couple times.”
“Right. So, with Griselda at the helm . . . everyone calls her ‘Grisly,’ by the way, that’s her nickname. With Grisly in charge, the gang has shifted tactics. First thing she did was nab modern weapons for all her blokes. That’s a major break in tradition. Usually they won’t touch anything less than fifty years old.”
“I suppose now they’re on a rampage against industrialists everywhere,” Blair said. “Chief Inspector Sperry should know about this.”
“Well now here’s the queer thing, Lady Coulter. I had the same thought, that all the factory owners and such could be in mortal danger. But that’s not the case. No, not at all. You see, Grisly and her boy Biggin targeted your father’s company, and him alone. No other targets are in the works at the moment.”
Rip said, “That’s what we call a surgical strike where I come from.”
“Aye.”
“But why? Why my father, of all people?”
Twig sighed, with a frown.
“I cannot say, Lady Coulter. But as our first mission, might I suggest the Rangers go and find out. It may not pay as well as we all would like, but my thoughts are it may be important.”
19
On a dark stretch of city street, lamplights stood bereft of flames. No merry light danced behind glass here. So many times had the municipal lamplighter’s efforts been quickly snuffed out on this street, he finally gave up and avoided the pointless endeavor altogether.
Here, the Luddites avoided even gaslight for their demesne.
Down the darkened street, two Infiltrators walked in perfect disguise. Twig and Chance not only looked the part, they smelled like it as well.
“Phew, I’m ripe,” Chance murmured in a very low voice that only Twig could hear. “Quite malodorous, I am.”
“You’ll fit right in, yeah? Now stuff it, we’re near the place.”
The pair walked another hundred feet to the door of a ramshackle shop, the windows boarded over in hewn planks rather than plywood.
Twig stopped and rapped slowly three times, then quickly thrice more. He stood aside to wait, winking at Chance in the dim light.
The door opened a crack, and thin light from a candle inside stretched out to the street, barely illuminating the men.
“Checkers, it’s me, Lars Carson. This is me mate I was telling you about.”
The man behind the door was short, pudgy, and completely bald. He glanced at Twig and acknowledged him by twitching his two eyebrows. They looked like thick fuzzy caterpillars resting above his eyes.
He turned his attention to Chance and took him in all at a glance. He noted the shabby clothes, the odiferous scent wafting from him, and the three-day beard.
Checkers nodded once, his caterpillar eyebrows twitching again. He opened the door wide, letting more candlelight spill out onto the street.
“Come in, then,” he said, his voice a surprisingly high pitch for such a squat fellow.
Both men followed him inside. A dusty table dominated the room, with old wooden chairs before it. Behind the table a bookcase held ledgers and leather-bound novels, many over a century old.
Checkers evidently had been reading by candlelight, as evidenced by an ancient book lying open on the table. He ignored it and made his way to the ledgers, waddling as he walked over to the shelf. He pulled out the most recent one and placed it beside the open book. Then he sat down with a grunt, facing the other men from behind the table.
“I gots to warn youse two before we get started, things have changed with the Luddites. We’re more prone to do somethin’ about the technology, if you knows what I means.”
Twig said, “We’ve talked about this, Checkers. You know we have. I’m fine by that. I say it’s high time we do more.”
“Well now, that’s just it. Some of the stuff you’ve been on with us in the past, it’s changed. We’ve sabotaged some factories, even burned down a place or two. Shot up some industrialists, things like that. But that was like tossin’ pebbles in a pond. Did we ever make any lastin’ change, Lars?”
“For me, it’s the principle of the thing more than ought else,” Twig said. “Maybe it didn’t make a dung’s hill worth of difference. But we showed them industrialists a thing or two. We put some potholes in their road to progress.”
“That’s just it, Lars. Potholes can be filled in, yeah? But the Luddites are startin’ to make some real changes. Our new leader will see to that.”
“Right. I don’t know much about her,” Twig said in a quieter tone.
“We don’t see you around much. You’ll meet her, though, sure enough. Grisly is changin’ things for the better, you ask me. We’ll soon be making real differences.”
Checkers turned his face toward Chance and his bushy eyebrows twitched higher.
“So, here’s the deal, mate. You want to be one of us, you gots to take the oath. Foreswear technology, and pledge against its use, fight those who would foist it upon us, thwart those who would be changin’ our way of life. Be willin’ to put your life on the line for the cause. You good with all that, are you?”
Twig nodded and said, “I am. I’m ready to toss an innovator over the proverbial rails. Let’s get on with it.”
“Oh, I like his spunk, Lars. Grisly will like it, too. We need more men like you.”
“Well I hope she don’t sell our souls in the process of changing the organization too much,” Twig said, quietly.
Checkers frowned, his brows forming a solid line on top of his face. It looked like one long caterpillar now.
“Don’t second guess Grisly, Lars. You don’t want Biggin to hear about it. She has her reasons, and that’s all you need to know.”
“Fine and dandy, mate. But these new weapons, I’m just sayin’ . . . Before long she’ll have us using gas instead of candles, and then what? Driving a steam truck? It’s all just sounding a mite hypocritical to me, that’s all. It’s bad enough we use gunpowder.”
Checkers’ brows remained furrowed.
“Marco Polo brought back gunpowder from China. It’s not exactly new, even when he brought it back.”
“I know, but . . . machineguns? Even semi-autos? Really, Checkers?”
The squat man grew visibly more upset. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair.
“Just . . . keep that sentiment quiet, Lars. Not a word of it goes outside this room, see? Enough of that.”
With a smooth cutting gesture of his hand, he ended the conversation.
Turning to Chance again, Checkers picked up a quill and dipped it into a jar of ink, his hand hovering over the ledger.
“What’s your name, mate? I’ll have you repeat the oath and you’ll become one of us.”
“Bunter Robinson.”
“Right. Now, Bunter, repeat after me . . .”
Twig smiled. As far as he was concerned, any oath made under a false name was non-binding. He repeated the words back to Checkers, who then inscribed his alias in the Luddites’ roster.
20
Twig bid both men adieu. Checkers paid him a finder’s fee of five quid, which was good money. Twig felt very happy about receiving it, especially since he had introduced another Infiltrator to the group.
When Twig walked out the front door, Checkers brought Chance through the old shop’s back door.
“We’ve got a good setup here, see?” Checkers said, leading Chance through the dark alley behind the building. “Several blocks around here are all ours, with no peelers.”
“Not much light either, ay, mate? A bloke could get waylaid back here, with none the wiser.”
“Pah. Nobody enters Luddie Land who doesn’t belong. Not even the beggars. We’ve a few tidiers who mind the streets for us. Mayhap you’ll be tasked with that at some point. All dependin’ on where you’re needed the most. We do be needin’ new men, that’s the right truth of the matter.”
“[Total Recall]?”
“[Thorough Recall]. I see that look on your face. You find this amusing.”
“It just reminds me of an old movie.”
“The kind you watch on a box?”
“Right. Or in a theater. Anyway, your skill sounds like a spy camera without having an actual camera.”
“I suppose that is one way to look at it.”
They stopped and looked out over a small pond. The surface of the dark water reflected the park’s few gaslamps along the path.
Blair sighed and said, “I feel guilty, Ripley, about some of the things I’ve kept from you due to my enhanced class. I . . . skulk around a lot, usually at night, and engage in all sorts of unsavory pretensions. It’s not very lady-like, I’m afraid.”
She looked up at him to gauge his reaction. But he continued smiling at her, seemingly unperturbed, so she continued.
“I’ve . . . I’ve done horrid things, like pretending to be a prostitute. I never actually slept with a client, mind you. I usually knocked them out or poisoned them before it went very far. But . . . I know what it’s like to live that life. And many others equally sordid, equally squalid.”
He smiled even more at this, but sobered when he saw the look on her face.
Rip said, “I can see this troubles you, that you’re worried about how I’d feel about that. I understand you and the Infiltrators often pretend to be someone you’re not as part of your class. That’s okay. It doesn’t bother me.”
“Are you certain?” she asked, softly.
“Yup. So long as you stay true to me, I don’t care what you did or do as a Spy. Well, you know . . . don’t go sleeping with the enemy or anything.”
She hugged him then, and he could feel the tension releasing in her body.
“No, of course not. I take our marriage vows very seriously.”
“Good. I think you know the sisters kissed me to bestow their boons on me. Before today, that’s about the farthest I’ve gone with any girl on this world.”
“Mm. It’s a shame you shan’t be getting any more of their boons.”
It was her turn to give him a wry smile.
They resumed walking, hand in hand.
Thoughtfully, he said, “Spies don’t give any boons for sleeping with them, do they?”
“No. Not unless they’re vampire spies. But I can make it up to you in other ways, believe me.”
They finally arrived back at the townhouse at a very late hour. Blair unlocked the wicket gate and then the front door.
Inside they found Nancy fast asleep on one of the couches, snoring softly. Rip shut the door lightly, careful not to wake the maid up.
Blair moved silently across the room, and Rip realized she was using a [Stealth] skill. He activated his own and followed her into the bedroom. They shut the door quietly.
Blair sat down on the bed and smiled, a clear invitation. Rip went to the sink and began taking off his suit and tie.
“You know, I’m going to have to get used to not sleeping in the guest cottage. I’ve gotten kind of attached to that place. I guess it could serve as our bat cave from here on out.”
He smiled and turned, heading for the bed.
“That’s another cultural reference you won’t get.”
Blair was still on the bed, fully clothed but fast asleep.
He stopped and chuckled, empathy for his exhausted wife spreading across his face. He got in on his side of the bed, slipped under the covers, and reached across her to turn out the light.
18
Blair and Rip both woke up refreshed in the morning. They made it to breakfast late.
Nancy worried about them while waiting. Had it been just the mistress, she would have knocked on the door and inquired after her health. But now she knew Sir Ripley was in there, in the bedroom. So, she sat down at the breakfast table and hoped they would be out before the food grew cold.
About the time she was thinking of starting over on the food and making something fresh, they both walked into the breakfast nook looking fresh and relaxed.
“Good morning, Nancy! What have you made us today? Bacon? I love bacon! Rip, she makes the most excellent bacon.”
Nancy’s eyes narrowed.
“You never compliment my cooking, dear.”
“I don’t? I’m so sorry, Nancy. Your skills in the kitchen are divine!”
Blair gave the woman a little squeeze hug, shocking Nancy almost as much as her chipper morning mood.
She sat and scooted her chair closer to Rip’s and picked up a slice of bacon off the plate.
“Try this,” she said, feeding it to him. He chewed on it and they smiled at one another.
Nancy leaned back in her chair and said, “Oh! I know what this is. This is love. You two love each other, don’t you?”
They smiled across the table at her.
“Nancy, be a dear and put on a fresh pot of tea.”
“Oh! Right away. I almost forgot myself, you two were so long in getting here.”
She bustled off to the kitchen.
Blair leaned over and kissed him when she left the room.
Rip said, “Sorry, I’ve got bacon breath.”
“I love bacon.”
They left the house half an hour later, leaving Nancy to clean up. She smiled too, when they left, watching them through a window as they walked hand-in-hand to the gate.
“Ah, true love! She has found it. That’s a tad unusual this day and age, especially amongst the gentry!”
Rip and Blair walked down the sidewalk together. They avoided holding hands in public, since displays of affection were looked down upon in polite society. But it seemed obvious to anyone passing by that they held one another’s hearts.
They soon caught a cab and settled in for the ride to Doctors’ Commons.
Rip said, “Should we head over to the company headquarters? I feel responsible, even though I haven’t the slightest idea how to actually run a company.”
“The company will take care of itself. Father has good people in charge, notwithstanding that dreadful Mr. Threadgill. No, we need to check in at RVS first. It’s been too long since we’ve been there, and the others will be expecting us.”
The cab dropped them off at the entrance to Doctors’ Commons. They passed through a short line to the gardens and walked along the wide path toward the large building at the end.
To their left, the royal offices waited, guards in red livery and tall black furry hats diligently patrolling the entrance. To their right, the Lyceum’s buildings remained less guarded, although several police officers wandered around keeping an eye on things.
As they approached the RVS building, Rip noted something different about the roof. Three large machinegun installations had been added, a nod to the dangers of aerial assault after the last black airship attack on Doctors’ Commons.
“That’s nice,” he said, pointing it out to Blair. “But I’m not sure how well nine-fifties will do against enhanced airships.”
“It’s better than nothing, which is what we had before.”
Inside, a receptionist greeted them and gave them a room number for their team to meet. She promised she would direct the others there, upon arrival.
Just a few minutes after finding the room, the Verez sisters walked in. Both wore glum expressions on their faces.
Rip looked between them and Blair, noting that Blair gave them a slightly superior smile, as if winning a recent victory.
A long silence drew out as the women stared at one another.
He said, “I hope we can all keep getting along together. We’ve helped each other out in the field numerous times. Blair and I being married shouldn’t change things in our professional relationship. Right?”
“Oh, of course not Ripley,” Liza drawled in her slight Hungarian accent.
“We are so happy for you both,” Hilda said, with happiness evident in neither her tone nor face.
Twig and Chance walked in about then, tipping imaginary hats to all present.
“Congrats to the mister and missus,” Chance said. He smiled and seemed genuinely happy for them, unlike the vampires.
Twig said, “Sorry for your loss, Lady Brooke. Uh, Kat Coulter, I mean. But I’m happy for your recent union.”
The men sat down and Rip stood to address the group.
“I filed the paperwork with RVS, and we are now officially a team. We’re a bit unusual at six, although it’s not unheard of.”
“People don’t like to split the earnings too much,” Chance said with a shrug.
Twig smiled and said, “That just means we have to take on higher paying missions.”
“Speaking of which,” Rip said, “we need to discuss what our first mission will entail.”
Twig cleared his throat and said, “I took the liberty of looking into the Luddites a bit during our time off, on account of they’ve been such a bother to Sir Brooke and his family.”
Blair nodded and said, “That’s right. ‘Bother’ is a good way to put it. When I first introduced him to Ripley, some Luddites rode down our carriage. Lucky for us, they were using older guns and ammunition. They killed our driver’s horses, but other than that Ripley and I were able to handle them.”
“Well, I heard they was using modern guns on the factory hit, and that little fact got me to wondering. So, I’ve some contacts there. I’m sure Chancey has some, too.”
“Not with the Luddies, no,” Chance said. “They’re zealots, that lot. I stick with street gangs. They’re far more rational criminals.”
“Right. Anyway, I checked with my contacts and something strange is going on within the Luddites’ organization. They’ve always been antagonistic toward industrialists, but lately it’s gotten much worse.”
Rip said, “Why? What’s changed?”
“New leadership,” Twig said. “From what my contact told me, a woman named Griselda Belle moved in and whacked their old leader. She has a muscleman who does most of the dirty work, and he helps keep the other Luddies in line for her.”
“Wallace Biggin. We’ve met him a couple times.”
“Right. So, with Griselda at the helm . . . everyone calls her ‘Grisly,’ by the way, that’s her nickname. With Grisly in charge, the gang has shifted tactics. First thing she did was nab modern weapons for all her blokes. That’s a major break in tradition. Usually they won’t touch anything less than fifty years old.”
“I suppose now they’re on a rampage against industrialists everywhere,” Blair said. “Chief Inspector Sperry should know about this.”
“Well now here’s the queer thing, Lady Coulter. I had the same thought, that all the factory owners and such could be in mortal danger. But that’s not the case. No, not at all. You see, Grisly and her boy Biggin targeted your father’s company, and him alone. No other targets are in the works at the moment.”
Rip said, “That’s what we call a surgical strike where I come from.”
“Aye.”
“But why? Why my father, of all people?”
Twig sighed, with a frown.
“I cannot say, Lady Coulter. But as our first mission, might I suggest the Rangers go and find out. It may not pay as well as we all would like, but my thoughts are it may be important.”
19
On a dark stretch of city street, lamplights stood bereft of flames. No merry light danced behind glass here. So many times had the municipal lamplighter’s efforts been quickly snuffed out on this street, he finally gave up and avoided the pointless endeavor altogether.
Here, the Luddites avoided even gaslight for their demesne.
Down the darkened street, two Infiltrators walked in perfect disguise. Twig and Chance not only looked the part, they smelled like it as well.
“Phew, I’m ripe,” Chance murmured in a very low voice that only Twig could hear. “Quite malodorous, I am.”
“You’ll fit right in, yeah? Now stuff it, we’re near the place.”
The pair walked another hundred feet to the door of a ramshackle shop, the windows boarded over in hewn planks rather than plywood.
Twig stopped and rapped slowly three times, then quickly thrice more. He stood aside to wait, winking at Chance in the dim light.
The door opened a crack, and thin light from a candle inside stretched out to the street, barely illuminating the men.
“Checkers, it’s me, Lars Carson. This is me mate I was telling you about.”
The man behind the door was short, pudgy, and completely bald. He glanced at Twig and acknowledged him by twitching his two eyebrows. They looked like thick fuzzy caterpillars resting above his eyes.
He turned his attention to Chance and took him in all at a glance. He noted the shabby clothes, the odiferous scent wafting from him, and the three-day beard.
Checkers nodded once, his caterpillar eyebrows twitching again. He opened the door wide, letting more candlelight spill out onto the street.
“Come in, then,” he said, his voice a surprisingly high pitch for such a squat fellow.
Both men followed him inside. A dusty table dominated the room, with old wooden chairs before it. Behind the table a bookcase held ledgers and leather-bound novels, many over a century old.
Checkers evidently had been reading by candlelight, as evidenced by an ancient book lying open on the table. He ignored it and made his way to the ledgers, waddling as he walked over to the shelf. He pulled out the most recent one and placed it beside the open book. Then he sat down with a grunt, facing the other men from behind the table.
“I gots to warn youse two before we get started, things have changed with the Luddites. We’re more prone to do somethin’ about the technology, if you knows what I means.”
Twig said, “We’ve talked about this, Checkers. You know we have. I’m fine by that. I say it’s high time we do more.”
“Well now, that’s just it. Some of the stuff you’ve been on with us in the past, it’s changed. We’ve sabotaged some factories, even burned down a place or two. Shot up some industrialists, things like that. But that was like tossin’ pebbles in a pond. Did we ever make any lastin’ change, Lars?”
“For me, it’s the principle of the thing more than ought else,” Twig said. “Maybe it didn’t make a dung’s hill worth of difference. But we showed them industrialists a thing or two. We put some potholes in their road to progress.”
“That’s just it, Lars. Potholes can be filled in, yeah? But the Luddites are startin’ to make some real changes. Our new leader will see to that.”
“Right. I don’t know much about her,” Twig said in a quieter tone.
“We don’t see you around much. You’ll meet her, though, sure enough. Grisly is changin’ things for the better, you ask me. We’ll soon be making real differences.”
Checkers turned his face toward Chance and his bushy eyebrows twitched higher.
“So, here’s the deal, mate. You want to be one of us, you gots to take the oath. Foreswear technology, and pledge against its use, fight those who would foist it upon us, thwart those who would be changin’ our way of life. Be willin’ to put your life on the line for the cause. You good with all that, are you?”
Twig nodded and said, “I am. I’m ready to toss an innovator over the proverbial rails. Let’s get on with it.”
“Oh, I like his spunk, Lars. Grisly will like it, too. We need more men like you.”
“Well I hope she don’t sell our souls in the process of changing the organization too much,” Twig said, quietly.
Checkers frowned, his brows forming a solid line on top of his face. It looked like one long caterpillar now.
“Don’t second guess Grisly, Lars. You don’t want Biggin to hear about it. She has her reasons, and that’s all you need to know.”
“Fine and dandy, mate. But these new weapons, I’m just sayin’ . . . Before long she’ll have us using gas instead of candles, and then what? Driving a steam truck? It’s all just sounding a mite hypocritical to me, that’s all. It’s bad enough we use gunpowder.”
Checkers’ brows remained furrowed.
“Marco Polo brought back gunpowder from China. It’s not exactly new, even when he brought it back.”
“I know, but . . . machineguns? Even semi-autos? Really, Checkers?”
The squat man grew visibly more upset. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair.
“Just . . . keep that sentiment quiet, Lars. Not a word of it goes outside this room, see? Enough of that.”
With a smooth cutting gesture of his hand, he ended the conversation.
Turning to Chance again, Checkers picked up a quill and dipped it into a jar of ink, his hand hovering over the ledger.
“What’s your name, mate? I’ll have you repeat the oath and you’ll become one of us.”
“Bunter Robinson.”
“Right. Now, Bunter, repeat after me . . .”
Twig smiled. As far as he was concerned, any oath made under a false name was non-binding. He repeated the words back to Checkers, who then inscribed his alias in the Luddites’ roster.
20
Twig bid both men adieu. Checkers paid him a finder’s fee of five quid, which was good money. Twig felt very happy about receiving it, especially since he had introduced another Infiltrator to the group.
When Twig walked out the front door, Checkers brought Chance through the old shop’s back door.
“We’ve got a good setup here, see?” Checkers said, leading Chance through the dark alley behind the building. “Several blocks around here are all ours, with no peelers.”
“Not much light either, ay, mate? A bloke could get waylaid back here, with none the wiser.”
“Pah. Nobody enters Luddie Land who doesn’t belong. Not even the beggars. We’ve a few tidiers who mind the streets for us. Mayhap you’ll be tasked with that at some point. All dependin’ on where you’re needed the most. We do be needin’ new men, that’s the right truth of the matter.”
