The Adventures of Phineas Frakture (21 page)

Episode
5

“A bomb? Are you sure?” asked Constable Fuller as she cautiously looked at the device that Phineas had discovered.

“Do you have trash bins that blink and chirp?”

“Not that I am aware of.”

“Then it’s probably a bomb,” Phineas said, opening a pouch on his belt. He withdrew a multi-tool and began unscrewing the casing.

“Wait! Is that wise?” asked Fuller.

Phineas looked up without stopping. “If I’m going to die, then at least I’m going to do it with an idea why. Right now, I’m the closest thing to a specialist that you have got.”

“And you are qualified? You’re just…just an American. No offense.”

“I’ll try not to take any,” Phineas quipped, taking off the front panel. The chirping and flashing began to increase in speed. “Oh, look at you. Aren’t you a thing of beauty?” Phineas stared at the inner workings of the device. Wires, cogs, and spinning dials all surrounded a pint-sized container containing a glowing green gelatinous liquid.

“Well? Do something!” Fuller said, the panic in her voice obvious.

“Quiet! I’m thinking.” As he stared at the bomb, paths were made clear, functions became obvious, and he unfolded the clippers on his multi-tool. Carefully, he inserted the clippers into the device as the bomb’s warnings came faster and faster. He snipped one wire, a second wire, and then a third.

The device went silent.

Phineas stood up and skillfully flipped his tool back into the pouch.

“It’s harmless now,” Phineas said, and much to his shock and surprise, Constable Fuller grabbed him and kissed him full on the lips. When she finally parted, Phineas stood there, eyes wide and at a total loss for words.

“Sorry,” she said, “spur of the moment celebration and all. Whoohoo!” she added unconvincingly, raising her fist.

“Well…um…I think that we should get this thing to a safe place. Help me load it into the carriage,” Phineas said. They each took a side and tried to lift the device. Their faces turned bright red from the strain, and they both released their grips at the same time. “Okay, I can see why he uses an automaton.”

“I can have a few of the maintenance bots come take this to the Yard. You should go to the hotel and get some rest.”

“If it’s all the same to you, I would like to tag along and get some insight on this thing,” said Phineas.

“Just what do you do, Mr. Frakture?” Fuller asked suspiciously. “You seem to know a little too much about explosives.”

“I teach mechanics and engineering.”

“So, you could probably tell us how this was made and who could have built it?”

“Possibly. I could at least narrow the field down to what qualifications they would need to build this. I am not familiar with any of your scientists,” Phineas said.

“Good, that’s a start. We work well together, don’t you think? Now, if we only had one of those call boxes that you claimed to have seen. That really isn’t a bad idea. Maybe we will institute something like that. It would be handy to have if anyone needed a Bobby or, say, a Doctor.”

Phineas dragged himself into his hotel room at two in the morning. He had been scouring the device for clues as to who had made it, but came up empty handed. The liquid at the center of the device defied any identification; and though he was no chemist, he had a feeling that it was the custom formula and catalyst of whoever created the bomb. After running out of ideas, he bade Constable Fuller good night, much to her disappointment, and rode to the hotel, courtesy of Scotland Yard.

Phineas was awakened at seven in the morning by a banging at his door. He crawled out of bed, his feet still throbbing, his face swollen, and feeling like that Hyde character had taken a swing at him.

He opened the door to find Abigail standing at the threshold. Her eyes narrowed, her nose scrunched up, and then she slapped Phineas across the face.

“Good morning to you, too,” Phineas said as she stormed off.

William pushed past him carrying a box of pastries and a newspaper. “What happened to you last night?”

“What the devil was
that
all about?” asked Phineas.

William looked closely at him. “Do you normally wear lip color?”

Phineas went to a mirror where he wiped off the remnants of Arabella Fuller’s make up. “That certainly explains her irrational behavior.”

“Seemed logical enough to me, but as I started to say,” William held up the newspaper, “how did this happen?”

The front page of the paper showed a photo of Constable Fuller with Phineas in the background looking at the device that he had dismantled last night. The headline read:
‘Scotland Yard Foils Second Bombing Attempt.’

Phineas grabbed the paper from William and read through the article. “It says that she stopped the whole business of the bomb exploding. All she did was kiss me when I disarmed the thing and transported it to the Yard. She’s taken all the credit!”

“Not that you care about that,” said William. “So, did you have any luck finding this guy? I certainly didn’t, though I have a few names left to check. And what happened to your face?”

“Long story involving butlers.”

“Hmm. I met some nice ones, though I had enough tea to last me a lifetime.”

“Yeah, I got that too. We should set out together today and finish our search,” Phineas suggested.

“Of course, we can get into twice as much trouble in half the time.”

After an entire morning of canvasing the last of the city for ‘Doctor M’, Phineas crossed off the final name and sighed. “That’s it. Those were all the Doctor M’s in London. What now?”

“Maybe he isn’t in London. Could he be from outside the city?” asked William.

“I doubt it. That automaton probably wouldn’t travel a great distance with newspaper ads and bombs. He must be somewhere in the city.” Phineas looked around and his eye caught a street sign. “Why does that sound familiar?” He quickly pulled a slip of paper from his pocket. “Of course! This is where the doctor that I was telling you about lives. Yes, just down this way. I don’t think he will mind if we drop in unannounced.”

They hiked up the street a ways until they came to a dreary looking home. Phineas knocked on the door and, after a few moments, it was opened by a small, middle-aged man.

“Hello, I’m Phineas Frakture. I’ve been in correspondence with Doctor Henry Jekyll. Is he in at the moment?”

“I’m Jekyll,” said the man. “So you’re the one with the…” he stopped suddenly as his eyes adjusted to the light and he focused more clearly on Phineas and William. “YOU!” His voice was suddenly deeper and, before their eyes, the nondescript Dr. Jekyll transformed into the nefarious Mr. Hyde. “TESLA BOY!”

“Aw, crap! Run!” shouted Phineas…and once again Phineas and William took off as fast as they could.

“And that was the doctor that was supposed to help me?” asked William as they ran.

“Well, he apparently has experience with mutative disorders,” replied Phineas.

“If it’s all the same to you, I think that I will skip any further sessions with him.”

“Agreed. Should we stop or keep running?”

“Keep running. Definitely keep running,” said William.

Once they were beyond collapsing, the duo found a public place where they could get their wind.

“I think that we should head for Scotland Yard to see if there are any developments,” Phineas finally said.

“You go. I’m going to go back to the hotel and die for a while.”

“Fine. I’ll be back shortly,” Phineas said, heading off.

The walk took longer than he had hoped and, when he finally arrived, he was given the runaround by the clerks until Fuller showed up and brought him back to the room where the bomb was stored.

“I saw the paper today,” said Phineas. “Does Scotland Yard always take the credit for others’ work?”

Fuller flushed with embarrassment. “Oh, that. I’m really sorry. The inspectors felt that an American diffusing the bomb would look bad, not only for us, but for the country as a whole. These are sensitive times.”

“Of course,” Phineas answered hesitantly. “It’s not like we want to build relations with each other or anything. Has there been any progress identifying that liquid?”

“None, yet. It baffles every chemist we have in our employ.”

“So, still no way of tracing where it came from.”

“Sorry,” said Fuller. “I wish that there was more that I could do. Perhaps we could discuss the case further…over dinner? Maybe we can improve our international
relations
as well.” She batted her eyelashes at Phineas, who started to back away towards the door.

“Well…that’s a nice offer…but…I have plans. Maybe another time. I have to go.” He quickly opened the door and ran outside. “I’ve been slapped enough for one day, thank you,” Phineas said to himself. “I guess there is nothing left to do but go back to the hotel.”

Another hour later, Phineas walked into his hotel and knocked on William’s door, hoping that he was awake. The door opened and, as Phineas started to walk in, William suddenly slammed the door in his face.

Phineas staggered backwards and put his hands to his nose, readjusting the break. “Ow,” he muttered when the door reopened. “What’s wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with
me
? That’s what I would like to know. When I got back, Abigail had been crying herself silly. I had to do damage control,
again
, for the last two hours. Then she told me how concerned you were about me yesterday when you heard that there was a monster loose in the city, and went looking for me. And it dawned on me. You weren’t yelling my name to find me yesterday, you were yelling at that Hyde character because you thought that he was me. Weren’t you? What happened to me in Atlantis? Did I turn into something like that? Were you afraid that I was going to hurt people? Why didn’t you tell me that it was that bad?”

Phineas looked at the carpet and scuffed his heel against what he thought was the most hideous print that he had ever seen. “I didn’t want you to worry about your condition, and yes, it was that bad…worse,” said Phineas.

“And that’s why you shot me with the tesla rifle? Not because I was in the way?”

“Yes.”

William pondered the truth for a moment. “I need some time,” he said, closing the door on his friend.

Phineas sighed and, given there was little else to be done, left the hotel. He headed for the pub and sat down at the bar.

“You look like you need the hard stuff, mister,” the bartender said.

Phineas motioned for him to pour, and the bartender put down a glass of scotch in front of him.

“Rough day?” asked a young gentleman seated next to him.

“Rough week. Airship destroyed by air kraken, fought off mutated squid men and shark thing, hotel blown up, robbed by butlers, girlfriend won’t talk to me, best friend hates me, and I can’t pay for my hotel let alone pay for this drink,” said Phineas, whereupon the bartender took the glass from his hand. Phineas sighed and let his head drop to the bar top.

“That’s all right, it’s on me,” the gentleman said, passing a coin to the bartender. “The name’s Harker, Jonathan Harker. I’m a solicitor by profession. It sounds like you have my problems beat, but it seems that we both have women troubles. Mine is listless and acts as if she is under a spell of some sort. And just before this happened, her best friend died of mysterious circumstances with similar symptoms.”