The Gadgeteer (Arabeth Barnes Book 1) Read online

  She stared at him a moment. He might be useful if she needed a plan B. But she shook her head. No distractions.

  She pushed the door open. Outside, Arabeth turned and headed for the textile district, hoping Hicks would head off in a different direction. He didn’t.

  "Stay out of sight, then. One look at you and he’ll run, forcing me to tranquilize him in front of his wife and four kids." She had no intention of scarring children, but they should know he was an escaped felon. His being hunted shouldn't come as a surprise, but it would still seem unfair. Then again, the parents had probably lied to them.

  The diner was a rough little place sitting between a low-end cobbler and a thrifty bakeshop. It reminded her of a pub that became too well known for its cooked snacks and had to shift the menu to support demand. Who would bring children into that sort of place? Her opinion of her target was already low, but he really needed a perspective check.

  "Don't come inside." She looked at Hicks.

  His left cheek twitched. "Don't do anything I'll have to arrest you for."

  "Yes, detective.” She sighed. Sanders wouldn't recognize her as a threat. Not in this environment.

  Pausing at the door, she knew she should have dressed more appropriate to the moment. A woman in trousers would be peculiar in any public setting. She'd managed to keep her face out of the newspapers, hiding behind a hand fan, hat, or some other prop most of the time, but some had figured it out. Criminals talked. They helped each other, to a degree. That implied informing one another about credible threats.

  Inside, the room was long and narrow, with booths along one wall and a bar counter along the other. Small. Comfortable. Brass fittings and light-coloured wood. No wallpaper. That got Arabeth's approval. The green arsenic-based dye in popular wallpapers had killed a lot of people before the news went wide. The woman behind the counter nodded to her and ignored her fox.

  Most of the seats were full. She spotted one place open at the serving counter. Sitting, she slid a coin to the server. The woman took it and turned to get a glass, surreptitiously pouring grape juice. This wasn’t the kind of place you went to with a shot of grape juice in mind.

  Sipping, Arabeth turned to see if Sanders was there. He didn't seem to be, but he could be in the "gentlemen only" back area, where the heavy drinking and less savoury activities went on. That didn't mesh with what her informant had said, though—he was supposed to come out of hiding long enough to sneak a meeting with his family before leaving for parts unknown.

  She pulled out a picture and compared it to the patrons. What if he wore a disguise? She ought to have asked for an article of bedding from his prison cell. Marble was a decent tracker.

  A nervous, forced laugh from a darkened corner rang out over the room, drawing the attention of more patrons than just Arabeth. Slipping to her feet, she moved toward the table it came from. Her target was there, but not with a wife and kids. Arabeth's source wasn't usually this sloppy. And it changed the odds. Still, she wanted this bounty. He was likely buying illegal passage out of the city.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted three others changing seats to get closer. How many people had her informant sold that information to? Maybe the woman had gotten greedy, or received the information second-hand as well. Either way, she wouldn't be getting Arabeth's money again.

  Arabeth needed to be first. A small white blur zipped forward ahead of her and seconds later the man in the corner booth jumped up out of his seat. A couple seconds after that, the man was bolting for the exit, out the back.

  Arabeth ran after him, one of her gloved hands shielding her eyes as she went into the “men only” area. She lowered it. It was far too dim in here to worry about being recognized and she needed to see which of the two exits her target went out. Someone ran into her back, causing her to shuffle forward.

  "He's getting away," a man's voice growled. "Get out of my way."

  She tripped him as he pushed forward. She noted a strange, small red and orange badge on his jacket sleeve above the elbow as he fell, then started after her quarry, pleased with the chaos that surrounded him. He'd landed on a pair of half-dressed twins known as Mary and Tess. They immediately took hold of him, laughing. He'd need a minute to disentangle himself. She chuckled.

  As she stepped out, she saw her target as he disappeared around a corner. He was quick, but Marble was quicker.

  "Follow him, Marble," she said, pointing.

  As the fox ran off, Arabeth pulled out a small brown leather box and flipped its top half open, revealing a tiny digital display grid. Marble's collar would tell Arabeth exactly where she went, with reasonable accuracy. Following with a modicum of haste, Arabeth kept one eye on her device and the other on where she was going. If it was too dangerous, she'd get help. So far, it seemed safe enough.

  The little dot on her display paused, then started moving back toward her. Soon she saw Sanders hurrying her way. He looked up and seemed relieved. Arabeth dropped the tracker back into her bag and pulled out one of her wrist traps, preparing to snap it on him as he went by. He stopped and waved her forward, his eyes wide.

  "Look, I know you'll throw one of your gadgets to catch me." He glanced at Marble. "You and that little demon won't rest, I know. So let's just do this." He held his arms out, wrists together. His eyes were a little too certain for Arabeth to second-guess the opportunity. Not one to look down on an easy capture, she snapped the wrist braces on him.

  A thundering, clunking hammer of steps came down the road adjacent to them and Arabeth couldn’t help staring.

  "There's the real reason," she gasped, staring at a large automaton in the distance. It had to stand a full storey tall as it shambled along, across the gap between the buildings.

  A sound rose up from its direction that Arabeth didn't recognize. It seemed electronic, but what technology could do that? Radio wasn't exactly a new invention, but it wasn’t portable.

  That's why Sanders had come back—he thought he'd be safer in custody. Probably true, but who would be truly safe from that monolith?

  “Well, we’ll take a few back streets. Let’s get to the station,” she said. She looked at Marble, who stood with all four legs stiff, her head cocked to one side. “Marble, let’s go.” When she didn’t move, Arabeth reached down. The fox dodged her and ran towards the automaton instead.

  "Marble, no! Let the police look into it," she yelled after her.

  Marble shook her head and kept going.

  Stopping, Arabeth thought about forgetting about Sanders and chasing Marble. There were bigger things going on than jail jumpers.

  "What were you arrested for?" She'd actually forgotten.

  "Mugging the elderly, double-jay-walking, dancing with one pant leg up. What do you care? Take me in." In his panic, he started hurrying away, pulling Arabeth with him, toward the police station.

  Marble was intelligent, and she had the tracking collar on, and the station was close enough. Arabeth could dump Sanders in the door and go after Marble before she was out of range. The fox was smarter than most of the people Arabeth knew, and that was saying something.

  She led Sanders with one hand on his cuffs, hustling toward the station. With her other hand she pulled out the tracking box. Marble's location was straight east and heading a bit north. The fox would be out of range soon, if her speed kept up. Arabeth and Sanders ran to the station.

  // Chapter 3 //

  She watched as Sanders fairly fled to his cell. Arabeth had the same cause to get running, but in the completely opposite direction. Marble's tracker showed she was waiting outside now. Why hadn't she kept going? That fox was going to give her a nervous breakdown one of these days. Thankfully, not today.

  The door opened eight times in the five minutes that Arabeth stood waiting for her bounty cheque. A few of the people were coming to report the automaton, but many others were being dragged in by constables, arrested for various acts of violence.

  Behind the counter, the clerk watched as a fres
h set of handcuffs helped an officer take a quietly gibbering man to the lockup.

  "Mel, what’s going on?" Arabeth whispered to the clerk. She’d come in to talk with Hicks, but the chaos was not going to make that easy.

  Her best friend, Mel, stood shaking her head. Arabeth knew the automaton was a big part of it, but watching the activity here she realized it couldn’t be the only thing terrorizing people. Were there more?

  “It’s the whole city, Abby. It’s like people have collectively gone mad.” She leaned across the counter to whisper. “There are reports of a beast. They say it’s eight feet tall and horrifically disfigured, like it’s part machine, part bear. No one wants to go look for it, so they're all pretending to be doing other important things."

  "It's not a beast, but it certainly qualifies as a monster. A mechanical one,” Arabeth replied, half to herself. “Tell Hicks I'll talk with him later.”

  "An automaton? As in a mechanoid? Have you seen it?" Melanie whispered back. "They're saying people go mental if they look at it."

  Arabeth nodded, eager to leave, but the look on Melanie’s face made her pause.

  "Are they right? Is it a massive terror?"

  "It's definitely something out of a nightmare. But it's man-made." Arabeth meant to imply man-made meant it would be simple to figure out. Dangerous, but simple. They were rare, and their makers were rarer still. She wanted to see it up close.

  Melanie's complexion paled. "You're not going after it, are you?"

  "I'm curious."

  "Oh, I know the sound in your voice. You are, aren't you?"

  Arabeth scanned the main area of the detachment. "I want to know who built it, and these guys seem busy enough." Hicks wasn't here. What if he was out, following the mechanoid? She rapped her knuckles on the counter twice. "So, I'll talk later." She smiled as she turned to leave.

  She didn't want the trail getting cold. A monster that size … especially a lumbering automaton … it would definitely leave a trail. She could probably follow it blindfolded. With Marble running ahead, she was guaranteed to find it, but why take the risk?

  If there was an element of bear to it, that would explain Marble's lack of fear. She could out-manoeuvre it, any day. Large cats and predatory birds made her more nervous. And that fox had more bravery than intelligence, anyway.

  Why a bear, though? Were they thinking that would scare the few who reported the thing badly enough that they’d give poor information? If that was the case, it was working.

  A moment later she spotted it. At least eight feet tall, it had lost none of its dread-inducing stature in standing still. At this moment, it stood in the smaller town squares and was … looking around, like it was searching for something. Or someone, she realized. What had she missed?

  Arabeth inched closer, moving slowly enough to get a quizzical look from Marble. The fox sat and waited, unworried. The square was vacant, except for the automaton. Who was controlling it? It wasn't big enough to house a person, unless they were smaller than a child.

  It had to be radio waves. Why was the machine looking, though? It would be the controller that did that. Radar wasn't specific enough to send images, so that meant the person was wearing the controller?

  She scanned the edges of the square for anyone wearing a trench coat or other bulky apparel. There was no one.

  The machine backed up and stood tall against the wall, seeming to shut down. Slowly people came out of the shops that lined the square, then raced to the nearest road or alley, escaping. None stayed. None stared.

  The automaton whirred to life and turned, walking with what Arabeth imagined was a determined stride. As it turned, she noted fur on it’s head and back, in odd contrast to it being clearly metal, and most likely glued on to cause confusion with descriptions.

  It headed away, toward the outskirts of the city. Waiting, she hoped the person controlling it would come out of the shadows.

  When no one did, she followed the machine. It lumbered, never staggering, but always with an element of clumsiness. As it left the city, it turned south. What was south? Open land and the ocean. Why go there?

  "Oh. No … no," she muttered. The controller was going to sink the machine into the ocean, destroying any chance at evidence. Where were the constables?

  She was alone. How could she stop it? She had to try something. If it was electrical, she could shock it, but she’d never needed a charge that big outside her workshop. The battery for that kind of job would be massive, anyway.

  Rifling through her satchel, she pulled out a couple options: a long, thin rope, strong enough for extended use as a winch line, and her largest leg brace. She had been using it for bundling loose materials when shopping. Hopefully it would catch an ankle and then the other end of the winch line, then hold as she tightened it.

  "Marble, wait," she called out, cueing the fox to retreat. This time Marble listened. Swinging the line overhead, she created a loop twice the size she thought she'd need and tossed it to land in front of the giant's feet. If she timed it right, she could pull its heels together, bringing it to the ground. She tossed it high, letting the large loop fall almost to the ground, and waited.

  When both the machine’s feet were in, she waited for its weight to shift to the center, when it would be least able to resist, then pulled back with all her strength. The effort caused her to fall to the ground, but her weight was enough to topple it forward.

  She ran to the giant and wound more rope around its legs.

  The machine slowly struggled but the rope held. She wrapped the length of it around, tighter, wondering what to do now. It was advanced enough to right itself after falling, but made no reach for its legs, or the rope.

  There was a snapping sound in one hip joint and the machine shut down. A failsafe, to keep it from getting more damaged, she guessed.

  She had to find out more about who had made this machine, and she likely didn't have much time. Once they realized she'd caught it, they'd come looking. Of course, they had to figure that part out first. She'd be long done with it by then.

  Arabeth didn't think about what it meant to share their secrets, except to protect the people of her city. That protection wasn't optional.

  She pulled at the fur on its back, looking for a hatch or panel to open. She had to know what the purpose of this machine truly was. A recess hinted at a seam. It was square and about the size of a dinner plate. A small knife should suffice in prying the panel up. She dragged the blade along the metal, feeling for a gap, tearing some fur as she went. It was imitation fur. Another clue, she smiled.

  If it had been her, she would have welded the body shut. They must have been in a rush, or it was still in testing.

  Inside the chest cavity, she saw nothing more than the simple mechanics required to move the automaton. Standing, she frowned. There was nothing out of the ordinary at all.

  She shook her nerves out. When she first saw it walking down the road, it was doing the same thing with its head as it had done in the square. Constantly turning back and forth, never quite still, except for the few minutes it was standing at the wall.

  The head must be the key to it. Taking a firm grip on her blade, she cut the fur back from the neck. She could take the head with her, then take it apart in her lab. She'd have all the time she needed then. Opening her satchel, she wished she had a variable gap wrench or other tool to prise the bolts free. How could she separate the head? Coming back with the right tools was not an option. There was no time for that.

  How hard would it be to just … bend it until it snapped off? She could use leverage. Bend the legs back at the knees, tie the end of the rope around the forehead, then force the feet back to the ground.

  She might have to use the legs as pulleys. That might actually work, she realized. It wouldn't be able to sense that its legs were less confined, right?

  The odd fact that the machine was shaped as a humanoid gave her a moment's pause, but only a moment. Moving quickly, she used her full weight an
d snapped the neck off but needed to cut wires. She pulled out a wire cutter, but noticed something interesting about the wires—one was at least twice as thick as the others. That wouldn't be a problem, but what was it for?

  She packed her rope and picked the head up, a little surprised at its light weight. It was made of thin metal then, and either nearly empty, or filled with non-metal parts. This worried her: Had the war finally reached their small corner of the country? They'd been protected by how isolated they were—mountains on one side, an ocean on another, and dense, steep ravines on the other two.

  Moving as quickly as she could, she almost reached home before realizing how strange she looked. Oh, well. Everyone that knew her knew she was a gadgeteer. Still, curious passersby might talk. The head wouldn't fit in her bag. Taking off her jacket was almost as bad as walking naked down the road according to the rules of society, but what choice did she have? She slipped it off and tucked the head inside, hurrying her stride. Her shirt was long-sleeved and high-collared.

  Someone picked up pace beside her. She glanced, a little startled.

  "Bernie, what a surprise." She smiled but kept walking. He was the leader of her favourite informant network, a busy trade even in a remote city.

  "Hello, missus."

  "What can I do for you?" Arabeth often hired Bernie to get leads for the bounties she hunted when time was short, or she had other obligations.

  "I am here to repay a favour."

  "Oh? To whom do we owe this great debt?"

  He chuckled. "I came to warn you. Your friend Samuel Hicks seems to be caught up in some politics."

  "What sort of politics?"

  "The kind that get you killed for talking, Mrs. I'll see you around."

  She stopped, staring after him as he jogged to an alley and disappeared.

  "Well, Marble, what should we make of that?" she asked the fox.

  Hicks, involved in police politics? He may have changed over the last five years, but he'd seemed to have come back to himself recently. Politics? That didn't seem like him, at all. Later. She'd have to ask him later.