Jack Kane and the Statue of Liberty (11 page)

Office O’Malley stopped the three. “Now stop right there. Where do the lot of you think you’re going?”

“O’Malley, get out of the way. I need to get over there and see what happened,” Mr. Wilkes ordered.

“Old Iron Leg, I’m not letting you go over there and get hurt now. Let my men get everything under control first, and once I’m sure everything is safe…”

Loud creaking came from beyond the billowing smoke—the creak of twisting metal. The structure of the crane that had been on its way into the harbor to recover the sunken ship swayed drastically. First toward the buildings, then toward the deeper water. The operator tried desperately to get it under control, but with one of the crane’s legs out of commission, it was a lost cause keeping it upright and now a fight not to lose it in the bay as well.

“No! Not this too. I need that damnable thing!” Mr. Wilkes shouted.

“Back up, I’m not sure how much damage will happen when that thing comes down.”

“O’Malley, get out of my way. Damage or not I’m going to see…”

They all got to see. The structure faltered and tipped toward the
Isere
. Mr. Wilkes threw his cigar on to the ground. The crane looked like a giant trying to keep its balance and failing. In a way it was just that. The blast had weakened one leg and the steel buckled and rivets popped. Jack turned and covered Betsy with his body. Her rapid breathing heated up the inside of his coat quickly.

“I can’t believe this. I can’t believe it’s really happening.” Betsy sounded on the verge of tears.

“Two ships in one day! Someone is up to no good,” Jack said as he patted her back.

“What about that crane?”

He had to wait to answer as the crane crashed into the pier and the explosion of wood and metal and water showered them. Mr. Wilkes cursed, but his words were lost amid the horrific noise as the crane finished collapsing and came to rest.

“…and I’ll have the heads of the people responsible for this happening on my wharf! Do you hear me, O’Malley? Find the ones responsible for this, and before you haul them off to jail, you bring them here to me. Heads will roll for this! Heads will roll!”

“I’m guessing…” Jack started to speak, listening to ensure Mr. Wilkes had stopped talking. “I’m guessing the crane was destroyed along with that ship to prevent the ivory from being recovered.”

He let Betsy out from the protection of his coat. He had to shake it vigorously to get the dust off himself. O’Malley had removed his hat and mopped his bald head with a handkerchief as he shook his head and looked at the disaster. Mr. Wilkes had disappeared completely into the lingering dust cloud that now blew into the city.

“Jack, I think we need to look into this,” Betsy said as she tapped the parasol in her hand. “We may have different ideas about who is perpetuating these attacks, but I think the end result is the same. It’s up to you and me to uncover what’s really happening.”

He nodded. “I agree with you. We’d better find out what was on the second ship.”

“Do you think my father will allow us near it?”

“Perhaps he’ll be occupied long enough for us to get back to the office. Can you see which ship got blown up?” Jack shrugged and motioned to the stacks of manifests.

“I didn’t see, but it was parked on pier twenty-nine.” Betsy went to the desk and started looking.

“That one sounds familiar. There’s something about pier twenty-nine. There’s a huge warehouse over there.” He slapped himself in the forehead with the palm of his hand. “Oh my goodness!”

Betsy’s jumped slightly. “What is it? What is it about pier twenty-nine?”

“That warehouse. It’s where Sohmer and Company store their pianos before they ship them out. I don’t think we need to go and look, but I’m pretty sure the sunk ship was either loaded or about to be loaded with a shipment of pianos.”

He stared down the wharf. Was it possible the culprit used the distraction of Mayor Grace’s speech to blow up another ship knowing the police force would be distracted with keeping the man protected? Whoever was doing these deeds was a crafty one. A crafty one indeed.

“Jack! Pay attention. We need to get over there and see if what I suspect is true.”

“Betsy, I can’t allow you to put yourself in danger like that. It’s quite possible the wharf in that area is unstable. I think we need to clear out.”

“No, we’re not going anywhere until we find out for sure what’s going on over there. If this is, as you suspect, an attack on the piano industry in New York, we need to know either what was on that ship or in that warehouse. I spent long enough here with my father, and I’m pretty sure, but we need to be certain.”

Jack suddenly felt the need to put on his mask and head off into the wreckage and find out what he could, but how could he do that with Betsy right here? She knew him quite well, but she had no idea of his alter ego. He couldn’t very well tell her. Not now. The time wasn’t right.

She cocked her head and looked at him closely. Her eyes widened, and she scanned the area to see if anyone remained. A few dockworkers milled about watching the smoke as it settled and started to clear, but it appeared nearly everyone else had fled. She took him by the arm like a schoolteacher with a problem student.

“Betsy, what are you doing? Betsy.”

Once they were out of sight of prying eyes and noisy ears behind a fully loaded lorry, she fixed him with a steady gaze. “It’s you, isn’t it?”

He fumbled for words. “Me?”

“The one in the papers. The one behind the mask. Oh, it’s you. I should have known. How could I have missed it? You’re the one running around the city stopping petty crimes and protecting people. It’s really you. What do you call yourself?”

“I-I-I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, don’t play coy, Jack. I could smell the oil and electricity inside your jacket. You’re great with gadgets and building things.”

She opened his coat despite his flailing arms. She pulled out the two halves of his mask.

“Betsy!”

“Jack, you’re a hero. A hero. This is amazing.”

“Betsy—”

“Don’t you Betsy me, Mr. Kane. Here you are gallivanting around the city at night in a mask, rescuing people from crime. Without me. How do you think that makes me feel?”

“Well…”

“Exactly. I feel left out. I’ve let you into every part of my life.”

That wasn’t exactly true. She was like an onion—lots of layers. But she was like an onion secured inside a thick, lead-lined box with a giant tiger guarding it. There was plenty Jack didn’t know about Betsy.

“Well—”

“Mr. Kane, you need to take on a protégée. An apprentice. Someone with your ambition to stop evil in the city. Someone you can trust with your secret. Someone just. Like. Me.” She accentuated the last words with prods from her now collapsed parasol.

He couldn’t close his mouth. He gaped at her as he tried his best to keep from laughing. Betsy was, after all, a woman. She had no business running around at night trying to stop crime. She had no business fighting the evil underbelly of the city. He couldn’t be dragging her around and keeping an eye on her—.

The loud sound was more surprising than the slap itself. Jack blinked several times. She dropped his mask and slapped him. Hard. Far harder than he would have thought she could hit.

“Betsy?”

“Don’t you ‘Betsy’ me. The offer is on the table. You let me in on this hero business of yours or we’re done, and your secret will be out there for all to know. I’ve got my pamphlet, and I can use it to help you, or harm you. It’s your choice. I can use it to chronicle your…our adventures!”

“Betsy!”

“We’re either partners or we’re through.”

“Betsy.”

“What?”

She had him between a rock and a hard place. She was strong-willed, and up until the point where she slapped him, he hadn’t thought she was all that strong. Perhaps he’d been wrong about her. He was certain she could take care of herself during the day, but what about at night? She wasn’t leaving him any other option other than to give her a chance.

“Let’s go see if I have another mask at my place.”

Eight

Felonious sat in his chair and wondered where things had started falling apart. Every time he tried to execute a plan, something went awry. The more he thought about it, the more frustrated he became.

Bennington stepped into the room. “Master Felonious. Do you require anything of me? A cold drink perhaps? Champagne served in a dirty boot?”

Felonious waved his hand. “No, Bennington. I do not require a drink.” He prowled around the room. “I need answers, not refreshment.”

“My lord, whenever I have a vexing problem, I ask my ancestors for guidance,” Bennington said. “Perhaps if you were to visit the Hall of Patriots, an idea would come to you.”

Felonious thought for a few more moments. “You know, I may find an answer in the Hall of Patriots,” he said.

“Excellent idea, my lord. You’ve done it again,” Bennington said in a wry tone.

Felonious strode the short distance from his office to the Hall of Patriots. He stepped through the double doors into a sanctuary of sorts. A statue sat guarding the door. The placard read, Benedict Arnold. The dimly lit hall was lined on both sides with statuary. There were statues of King Edward I, Captain William Bligh, King John Lackland, and Genghis Khan.

Felonious ambled around the hall searching the carved faces. He stopped in front of Genghis Khan.

“What should I do? I am being thwarted at every turn. It’s as if someone knows my plans before I do and is there to stop me.”

The statue stared impassively at him. He wandered more, pausing to flip on a switch. A single beam of light shone onto an extremely unlikely hero: Guy Fawkes. Felonious snorted. He was no hero in England but maybe he could be a good role model for Felonious.

He considered the image. Guy was notorious for trying to blow up the British House of Lords on November 5th, 1605. Maybe that was the answer. If Felonious couldn’t destroy the Statue of Liberty, he could plant explosives and kill the politicians. Perhaps the mayor and his toadies.

But what to do in the meantime? He certainly didn’t want to suffer the same fate as Fawkes and gunpowder wasn’t good enough either. The explosive would need to be something…stronger. And it wouldn’t hurt to have a flashier delivery.

That thought made him smile. He had just the thing.

Bennington waited in the hallway. “Did you find your answer, my lord?”

“Yes, Bennington, I believe I have. I’ll be in laboratory number three if you need me.”

“Very good, my lord. Shall I bring you lunch later?”

“Yes, Bennington. I would like an omelet. Make it out of caviar, there’s a good fellow. I’ve heard caviar is a very expensive type of egg, and I’m feeling expensive right now.”

Bennington sighed then answered, “Yes, my lord. Will there be anything else? Perhaps you would like me to stuff and roast a bald eagle?”

“No, but that might be a fine idea for dinner later on. I will ring you on the house communicator if I require anything.”

“Very good, my lord.” Bennington turned and marched off, his back stiff and straight.

Felonious ignored the butler’s departure and left for his workshop. He used the underground tunnel to avoid leaving the building. The tunnel led to a massive brass door carved with a map of the United States with a giant foot on it.

Giant brass hinges connected the door to the concrete wall. Felonious strode to the door and turned his butt to face it. He stuck his bottom against the state of Washington D.C. then slapped the state of New York.

A grinding sound began, and the door slowly swung open.

Brass lanterns flared to life, illuminating a massive humanoid figure. Felonious strode into the room and donned a leather apron and pair of clear goggles.

He stepped up to the bench where a massive golden helmet sat partially finished. Pulling out an acetylene torch, he tinkered with the helmet. As he worked, the giant robot loomed under the bright lights. Felonious could hardly wait to try it out.

His mind wandered a bit as he fabricated the helmet. What could the baron be sending over? Did he somehow know there were problems with the plan?

That thought gave Felonious a start. If the baron suspected something was wrong, what would he do and how would he have found out? There was no one in the manor who could have told the man. Bennington was absolutely loyal. The man had been with the family since before Felonious’ birth. Besides, he adored Felonious. The man was stiff and proper but he was always coming up with new and interesting things for Felonious to try. No, it wasn’t Bennington.

The minions, maybe? That idea made Felonious laugh. He had to sit, head between his knees, as the belly laugh overwhelmed him. No, those two were too stupid to come up with anything on their own. They barely remembered their own names. How could they even know the baron? And what could they possibly use to communicate with him?

The baron used a device that was tuned to only contact one person in the world: Felonious. Granted, the baron could have other devices connected to other people, but Felonious knew he was the only one of importance.

So, who did that leave? There was the yard caretaker, but the man was a simpleton. He didn’t have an intelligent bone in his body.

Felonious waved his hands in the air and smiled. “I’m just being silly,” he said to no one in particular. “It’s natural for a man of my incredible abilities to occasionally have doubts, I suppose.”

With a chuckle, he held up the helmet. It gleamed golden under the workshop lights and appeared vaguely humanoid. Large glass orbs made up the eyes and a grill covered the area where a mouth would be. Twin antenna decorated the sides, each approximately in the location of ears.

Rotating the helmet, he searched it carefully for any imperfection. There were none. He giggled. This would catch the attention of New York and the world. He huffed a breath on it and rubbed a fingerprint out with his sleeve. They wouldn’t know what hit them. When the dust settled, he’d be a lord again.