Automatic Woman Read online

  “So you paid my bail? You put down ten thousand pounds?”

  “I have more money than time to spend it. Anyway, what I require transcends money. Dr. Saxon’s secret could be the answer to immortal life. To creating the animate from the inanimate. Dr. Saxon’s secret is God’s secret and right or wrong, finding it is more important than the petty money concerns of mankind.”

  “Why did you release me?”

  Darwin smiled again. Lord God how I hated that smug grin.

  “Call it a joke. A spirited ruse. I’m not the only one after Saxon’s secret. My, let’s say ‘competition,’ plays a fierce game and I needed him distracted from my moves.”

  “So I’m your pawn?”

  “Don’t underestimate yourself, Mr. Fellows. You’re not a pawn. Pawns move forward in predictable steps. They are sacrificial, defensive, of little value except in numbers. No, you are a bishop. Firing off at strange angles, appearing behind the enemy formation, charging, retreating, charging again. You’re definitely my bishop.”

  Rage filled me. I’m no man’s toy and no man’s patsy. “This is my life, Darwin!”

  The door behind me clicked open. I did not have to turn to know Stevens was looming behind me.

  “Yes, it is your life, and if I win this game, your life will be your reward. If I lose your life will be forfeited by an assassin’s bullet or a hangman’s noose, though you seem much harder to kill then anyone assumed. Do you understand your part in this?”

  “No.”

  “You are here to make my competitor fail, nothing more. Turn away from Saxon’s machine, and focus on undermining my opponent.”

  “And who is your opponent? Who am I up against?”

  Darwin laughed and slapped his knee.

  “You should know, Mr. Fellows. You shot his nephew.”

  Oh shite! Pieces of the puzzle fell into place. Everyone knew Owens was connected, a family hire though no one knew whose family. If Darwin’s opponent was matched in resources, was bright enough to cross wits with the genius naturalist that could only mean…

  “My opponent, your opponent, is Lord Barnes, Mr. Fellows. Happy hunting!”

  Seven

  Jolly Fellows is declared Persona Non Grata

  I sat in the evening train willing it to go faster. Go, go, go, get me to Mary’s place. The walls of my little world were closing in and the more I saw, the more I knew about the danger posed to myself and anyone in my proximity.

  Lord Barnes was, is, the greatest thief catcher to ever live. London bears no secrets to this man. His tracking me was more a question of when than if.

  The train arrived and I sprinted past ushers and porters and commuters. I sprinted past the regular folk on their way to regular spouses and children and sit-down dinners.

  Mary’s flat was cleaned out and turned over, just like my flat, just like Saxon’s. China cups were smashed, the easel and chairs were rendered into sticks and stacked in the room’s center. All like before. I went to the bedroom and found another torn mattress, shredded clothing and a note pinned to the wall by a gold pen knife.

  The cards don’t belong to you.

  Neither does the girl. Stop by

  the office tonight. -B

  The front door creaked in the next room. I unholstered my Colt, thought better of it, and unholstered the Engholm too.

  Saucy Jack was creeping into the living room with a giant butcher’s knife clenched in his fist. I nudged the bedroom door open to greet him.

  “Oy!” I yelled.

  Jack took a step towards me with blade raised and murder in his eyes. That’s when he noticed the guns I had pointed at his face and Tom Johnson.

  “You see any of this take place?” I motioned my head to the destroyed furniture.

  “I didn’t do that,” he said.

  “Not my question, mate. Did you see who did this?”

  He shook his head. The room suddenly stunk of piss and not my own I assure you. I motioned to the knife.

  “That for me?”

  Saucy Jack shook his head again.

  “Are you sure?” I drew back the hammers of both my guns. “I specifically remember asking you to bring a gun or a knife. That looks like a knife so I’ll ask again, is that for me?”

  “Sure, m-m-mate.” His voice took on a cowards’ stammer. This whole situation was giving me an ill feeling. I wanted to hurt this man, but really I wanted to hurt Lord Barnes and this man was standing between me and him.

  “Here’s the story, Jack. You leave that cutter on the floor. You brought it for me, so it’s mine now. Turn around, exit this room, go to the nearest restaurant and order a big supper. Know that the only reason you’re enjoying a meal or a pint or the sweet air around you is because I let you enjoy these things. And like God almighty I can take these things from you at my own displeasure. Mary is my girl now. If your air mingles with hers, I’ll stomp it from your lungs. If your eyes behold her, I’ll be there to pluck them out. If you hear her voice, just know that I’ll be standing behind you with that very knife, and I will make a necklace out of the ears I peel off your skull. Savvy?”

  Jack dropped his blade and nodded his head.

  “Good, now get the fuck out of my sight!”

  Jack slowly backed out of the living room, still unsure of whether I would shoot him. In all fairness, I should have shot him. I should have laid him out on Mary’s living room floor, but that’s a story for another time and my mind was too occupied with Lord Barnes. So I let Jack walk away, somewhat intact.

  There was no question about going back to Bow Street. If Barnes wanted me dead, why would he take Mary and leave a note? Why not just send back Safari and his ilk?

  The firm looked exactly as I’d left it seven days ago, a lifetime ago. The machines still clicked and clattered. The tubes still whooshed their all-important documents and cards. Miss Penny Walker still ran the first division with her wrinkled iron fist. Upon my entry, she seized a porter and had him stand next to me, as though I were there to burn the place down. He was an older bloke, one of Orel’s contemporaries. Name of Standish.

  “Evening, Standish. Bit of weather we’re having.”

  “I’ve got nothing to say to you,” said Standish.

  The primary lift opened and three thief catchers walked out. Myron Bells, Edgar Smithly, and Abraham Silver. One of Abraham’s arms was in a sling, the other held up a nickel-plated Colt Army, the brother of the pistol in my hip holster. Silver had burns down his arms as well.

  “You ought to be more careful,” I told Silver and gave him a firm pat on the sling. Silver grunted in pain. Smithly locked my elbows behind me while Bells seized my firearms. Silver pocketed his Colt and gave me a stiff jab in the gut. Not bad for a little a guy. The three catchers duck walked me into the elevator and set the lever to floor three.

  I can count the number of times I’ve been to the third floor on one hand. It was posh, that’s for certain. The building was originally four stories, but they demolished the fourth to give a vaulted ceiling to floor three. Everything was wrapped and framed in polished red wood. The lobby was centered with a stone fountain depicting Perseus on Pegasus. Water bubbled from Pegasus’ feet and coated a slick hill into a pool lined with mica-infused marble. Just over Perseus’ raised spear, a crystal chandelier cast dim electric light throughout the room. The floor plan was a perfect circle. Every three meters a door broke the circle’s continuity, marking the office of one of our seven managers. Lord Barnes’ office stood opposite of the lift door.My entourage led me around the fountain.

  “Anyone throw coins in that?” I asked. No one answered.

  The thief catchers put me through the door and into my destination. If a man’s surroundings speak of a man, then Lord Barnes was the very antithesis of Charles Darwin. Whereas Darwin’s sanctuary was cramped and filled with books and academic kits, Lord Barnes’ was a study of open spaces and gold gilding. The red wood of his walls were carved to look like men and women intertwined. Not sexually
mind you, but rather like they were spirits drifting off to heaven or hell. Persian rugs alternated red and gold threads. His family coat of arms, a helm and leopard, dominated the wall behind a lavish glass and crystal desk. Not for the first time, I noted Lord Barnes had an office without windows. Security-minded, that.

  “Jolly, how long has it been?” The gregarious man stood and grasped my hand like nothing in the world was wrong. Like I hadn’t been escorted in by damaged goons under orders from a note regarding a kidnapped prostitute.

  “Too long, your Lordship. Business been alright?” I gave him that horrible smile of mine.

  The Right Honorable Lord Barnes was a beast of a man. He had a good seven centimeters on me in addition to five kilos. He was a big man, but his fat and muscle were in equal balance. His hair and beard had gone shock white, but he still had enough vitality to beat a man senseless, or so I had heard. He looked every bit as aristocratic as his lineage would dictate.

  “Hit and miss. Please, have a seat.”

  He directed me to a King Louis chair, cleaner and prettier than Darwin’s. His goons kept their position at the back of the room. Silver held a hand over his shooter. I gave him a smile too.

  “So,” his Lordship said, “we can beat around the bush and fence words, but I think we’re past that point, don’t you?”

  He sat behind that unbelievable desk. The crystal had been cut to look like a product of nature. Crystalline formations sprung from the top and were carved into liquor decanters. Two were whiskey brown, one vodka clear, and one purple. Couldn’ttell you what was in the purple one.

  “We’ve passed a few points.”

  “Where would you like to begin?”

  I ran through the rhetorical methods in my head and decided on diplomacy.

  “I’m sorry about Owens.”

  A gun cocked behind me. Lord Barnes raised his hand to the would be shooter.

  “Don’t be. He was my wife’s sister’s son and a pain in the arse. Never really cut out for the work, that one. We’ve moved beyond that being an issue, at least for now. I’m more mad about you copying my cards than shooting poor slow Owens.”

  “Do I need to apologize for the cards?”

  “Don’t bother. Seems as though I’ve greatly underestimated your abilities. I hired you for this outfit to act as a ruffian. A fist swinger, if you will. You’ve turned out a bit more than that. I’ve tried to kill you twice, and no living man can boast that.”

  “Maybe you should have used better assassins.”

  Lord Barnes laughed at this. His laughed matched his size for throaty robustness.

  “You are a pisser! Sure, I can find better men to lay you dead. In all fairness, I should shoot you right now so that my record stays clean. But given the circumstances, I can find a better use for you.”

  “What makes you think I’m keen for using?”

  “Your lack of options. As it stands, you’ve got me, Darwin, or the grave. Assuming you’re not keen for the grave I’m sure I can field a better offer than Darwin.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “I’ll give you your life, your freedom, your job, the whore you’ve shacked up with. I’ll even throw in Orel and his wife.”

  “Orel?”

  “I had him kidnapped days ago, when I figured out the bit about you breaking into the building. Not that you’ve checked in on them or anything. They’re sitting in non-storage right now, blindfolded and stewing in their own piss. Miserable bit, that.”

  “That’s not right.”

  “Cost of doing business. Anyway, you were supposed take refuge with them after I destroyed your place, that way you’d find them gone and understand the futility of your situation. But rather than going to your friend and compatriot’s house, you took up with whores.”

  “Happens.”

  “Indeed, I had to track down the whorehouse, then the whore’s actual house, then get someone to nick her. That’s three kidnaps on your behalf. The expense has been entirely unreasonable.”

  “You were saying something about a deal?”

  “I’ll release all of my hostages, including your lady friend. That’s step one. Step two, I’ll twist over whoever the judge of your murder trial is. Let’s face facts Jolly, even if you survive my wrath, no magistrate in England will let you live for the murder of Dr. Saxon. You’re persona non grata. What was your solution, flee England?”

  “The thought crossed my mind.”

  “Uncross it. We have extradition treaties with all civil nations and you are not the blending type. The only option for freedom is a bent trial and I can provide that.”

  “Go on.”

  “Step three, you can come back to work for me. Like I mentioned earlier, I’ve clearly underestimated your skills as an investigator and enforcer. There are members of this firm who are entrusted with certain, let’s call them tasks.”

  “Like wearing silly masks and shooting at blokes in a penny theater.”

  “Sure.”

  “Can we substitute that provision for cash. I’d prefer not to come back to work here.”

  “No deal. You know things about this operation that can’t be talked about. You’re either with us or you’re dead.”

  “You drive a hard bargain.”

  “You have my terms.”

  “And for this I have to kill Charles Darwin?”

  Lord Barnes’ face took on a look of genuine irritation.

  “Are you mad? Kill Charles Darwin? The man is a national treasure! While I live, nothing is to happen to the Great Naturalist!”

  “But he’s…”

  “I’m honored to have a combatant on the level of Darwin. Once he’s gone I may as well off myself from boredom.”

  “If I’m not set against Darwin, then what do you want with me?”

  “Your quarry is Jacques Nouveau. Locate him, observe him; if he figures out Saxon’s secret and records it, shoot him and bring me the records. If he doesn’t, subdue and bring him to me anyway. Nouveau is the price of your freedom.”

  “And Mary?”

  “Mary, Orel, Emily. Nouveau brings this whole thing to an end for you and yours.”

  I pressed my luck.

  “What about expenses? Cash on hand. I could use the help.”

  Lord Barnes stood up and poured himself a drink, half vodka, half purple stuff. He did not offer any to me.

  “You have between sixty and eighty pounds in your pocket as we speak. You’ll manage.”

  It did not surprise me that he knew this. Lord Barnes, the master of information.

  “Do I get my guns back?”

  “Sure.”

  “Any leads?”

  “I would say Darwin knows where he is, but you already know that. Be on your way, don’t disappoint me. I get emotional far too easily.”

  Lord Barnes finished his drink and poured another. Still no offer to me.

  “Another thing,” he said. “I have other searchers out there. Some you know, some you don’t. If anyone brings me Nouveau before you, our deal is forfeit.”

  “And my friends.”

  “They’ll be forfeit too.” He held up his glass. “Cheers.”

  Eight

  Jolly receives a lesson on the spiritual nature of man

  My former colleagues escorted me to the front entrance. Silver put his good hand on my shoulder.

  “Know this, Jolly. No matter what Barnes says, I will be the end of you. Your death will come by hand, tomorrow, the day after, a week from now. I will take you unawares, from behind.”

  “If you come at my behind, at least have the decency to buy me a proper meal.”

  I retrieved my guns from Bells. He handed me the rounds separately. Silver stared daggers at me. I continued my little speech.

  “Front, back, side, whatever. The next time you come for me bring more of your friends. I’ll be sure to find something larger than a hotplate to bring down on your thick skull. Off you go then.”

  I waved them off. Silver l
ooked like he had more to say but his friends pulled him back. The thief catchers returned to their beautiful building. I took a leisurely walk, formed my thoughts, had a brisket plate and a pint of dark ale at the St. George and Dragon.

  Mary was safe, or at least relatively safe. Lord Barnes was a monster, but he’d at least abide by the rules of civilized warfare regarding prisoners. She’d be fed and unharmed. Same with Orel and Emily. I found myself back at my apartment. If Barnes was off my back, if I was back to playing his lackey, I supposed my flat would be safe. Relatively safe as there was always the Silver issue, but hey, life’s a gamble. My place was still a broken mess. I made a cup of tea and watched the gaslights of late evening London. Had myself a quiet moment. Went back to sleep on my terrible pile of feathers.

  I woke up late the next morning. Feathers stuck to my hair and burn wounds. I carefully removed each one so as to not cause the embarrassment I endured the last time I’d slept in feathers.

  Outside, the day seemed quiet, still. It took a moment for me to realize that today was Sunday, the Sabbath. No good Anglicans working on this day. This was a day for baths and nice clothing and seeing how comforting the Lord can be on a sunny morning. My skin was tight and irritable. My new advice to friends, if I had friends, would be to avoid immolating yourself. It’s a right pain in the arse.

  I looked up Dr. Doyle in a Central Bureau Directory and hired a hansom to his office. Thankfully, he was not a Sabbath observer.

  “Good morning, Doctor.”

  “Mr. Fellows, good to see you walking about.” His face told me this was a lie. In fact, he looked quite put off by my presence.

  “How’s Mary?” he asked.

  “She’s fine.”

  “Is she?” The anger crept into his voice. His right hand was in his doctor’s bag clutching God knows what. “I stopped by her place this morning. Didn’t look all right,” he said.

  Of course. “Look, Doctor. She’s in light danger. No more than I can handle. In fact, my capacity to handle matters is the reason for my visit. Got any of that salve for my skin?” Doyle took his hand out of his goody bag and opened a wall-sized blackwood medicine cabinet. He produced three jars and stacked them on a table.