The Scarlet Derby and Midnight Jay - Volume 1: Gallery of Rogues (8 page)

Once Mary Jane stood on the floor of the wealthy mansion where he benefit was held, she found herself silent as the many other notable members of England’s upper crust spoke loudly and lengthily about their various fortunes. As a servant passed with a tray of wine flutes, she took one as she sauntered vaguely towards the center of the room. While she wasn’t as against this lifestyle as her husband was, she admitted it had lost its charm since she got married, and for reasons other than the fact that nearly anyone in this room could toss her a snide remark about her husband the “eccentric” Yankee chemist.

“Not quite the soiree’ I expected,” A voice from the left of Mary Jane spoke idly. She turned and saw her very close friend Chief Constable O’Gratin. He was holding his tobacco pipe the same way Mary Jane held her wine flute. “To my great surprise, the gentleman of the house doesn’t even own a phonograph.”

“You’re a pleasant sight. Here, your collar is sticking out,” Mary Jane stopped to straighten the Constable’s clothing a little.

“You’re quite the doting one. I suspect that means your husband isn’t about to absorb the attention,” The Constable made his accusation in a manner that was pleasant yet still fitting for a police officer.

“No, he isn’t,” Mary Jane dismissed, “He was too pre-occupied with a project of his to attend.”

“It’s just as well. His presence would only infuriate many of the people here,” The Constable shook his head regrettably. “I’ve taken the time to appreciate the man’s subtle charms, but a lot of the folks around here wouldn’t be able to look past their noses long enough to do the same.”

“If I may ask, what are you doing here yourself?” Mary Jane continued in an idle tone.

“There’s an important foreign dignitary on the grounds. I was asked here to keep a watch on him.” The Constable explained.

“You’re not derelict in those duties?”

“Not at all, he’s right over there,” The constable pointed with the tip of his pipe.

Mary Jane looked over and saw a very thin man with a bird-like nose and pointed moustache. He was dressed in a black shirt, with a lavender vest underneath and a red rose in his lapel. He stood with his pronounced nose in the air, holding one arm akimbo and the other holding up a wine glass, making a wide “V” shape with his extended arm as long as the one at his waist.

“He’s certainly an interesting looking fellow,” Mary Jane said, airing out the faintest hint of sarcasm.

“His name is Hector Bellaco,” The Constable explained. “He’s one of the ambassadors to the Spanish monarchy, and a real hoity-toity aristocrat to boot. You know the type: fancies himself an artist, claims to be on the bleeding edge of some miraculous concept we plebeian civil servants can’t grasp.”

“My ears are burning, Señor Constable!”

Mary Jane looked from the Constable to Bellaco, who had apparently walked up to the two of them as they were talking. Mary Jane was surprised: there were very few people on this planet that could sneak up to her.

“I should apologize for The Constable,” Mary Jane said apologetically. “He was only speaking off-handedly to a close friend.”

“I understand completely.” Bellaco said dismissively. “I know better than to expect a kind word from someone asked to babysit me for an evening.”

The Constable was silent, not wanting to make the situation any more heated, or embarrassing for him. He did, however, raise an eyebrow of concern when he saw the Spaniard take Mary Jane’s hand and give it a kiss. “I don’t believe I’ve yet had the opportunity to meet you, señora.”

“Mary Jane Hedwater, the pleasure is all yours, I’m certain.” Mary Jane took her hand away, holding it aloft in wonder whether the strange foreigner had actually seen the diamond ring on her finger. He simply grinned, and tilted his head back, putting a hand to his chin.

“You know, I only recall hearing of one prominent Mary Jane. She was the holder of the Preston millions.”

“I am exactly the same person,” Mary Jane replied “Aside from my recent marriage. I don’t know much about Spanish custom, but here in England it’s pretty gauche to kiss the hand of a married woman.”

“Is that so?” Bellaco scratched the back of his head, fortunately seeming a bit embarrassed as well. “I’m certain whoever was able to take your hand is a very lucky man.”

“I like to think so,” Mary Jane said with a half grin.

“And where is this husband of yours now?” Bellaco asked in a subtle tone of voice.

“Oh, he’s back home, probably still just in his workshop, tinkering,” Mary Jane said just as casually.

“He doesn’t respect you!” Bellaco said pointedly.

Mary Jane scoffed. “That’s a rather gross assumption to make.”

“No, really, to be in the presence of a woman as beautiful as you, not desiring to walk to the very ends of the Earth with one so lovely. Any man taking you even the tiniest bit for granted is proof of how most unworthy he is.”

Mary Jane shook her head. “You’re making too much of an issue of it. My husband merely prefers his crafts to, admittedly droll, social events like the one we’re standing in.”

“That only further proves my point. A true man of genius should be able to see the potential in all things,” Bellaco leaned in close to Mary Jane and whispered. “I happen to have a bit of my own craft on display upstairs if you’d like to see exactly what I’m talking about.”

Mary Jane had a troubled look on her face. There was something off about this gentleman, something really, REALLY off. But she admitted, she was rather curious as to what the designs of this self-declared artist were, and she was in need of a new perspective on these little social events. She decided to give him a chance, knowing that if he decided to get fresh, she’d show him the ‘craft’ she’d learned since becoming Midnight Jay. “Very well, Mister Bellaco, you’ve talked me into it. Lead the way.”

O O O

Meanwhile, back at the Thames River, Thaddeus, now in costume as The Scarlet Derby, prepared his investigation. Once he was there he could silently admit to himself that he was this particular problem had to do with a large body of water. It gave him an opportunity to try out his latest invention: an underwater breathing apparatus.

It was an ingenious design, if he could say so himself. It fit neatly on him in the form of a backpack with two wheels attached to a pair of levers tied to his legs. When Thaddeus moved his legs, it pumped the accordion shaped bellows up and down. The bellows filtered air through the case into a pair of rubber hoses which bent in an arc along the sides of the box on both ends and converged into a small mouthpiece. Putting the piece to his lips, he gave a blow, inhaling the air blown back into his lungs by the machine in the back. From the force it took him to kick back the air in his invention, he could tell it was going to take a lot of physical force on his part to work the mechanism, and he hoped he’d be able to do that AND manage to keep himself swimming briskly underwater.

Putting aside the need to wonder any longer, The Derby held his nose and took a step over the surface of the river, slipping deftly into the water with the same splash an ice cube makes when it falls in a drink.

Once fully submerged, The Derby swam about the Thames in search of anything suspicious. His breathing apparatus was working swimmingly so far, though he’d somewhat miscalculated the force it would take to keep an object full of air and made of wood from just floating him back up to the surface. The other thing he noticed was what his wife had mentioned before about the condition of the river: it was downright filthy.

As he swam to the river floor he noticed a very dark, cloudy, mass swirling around in the center of the water, that had to be more of the strange chemical he’d found. The Derby swam further down, trying to meet with the cloud face to face. He pushed a hand into the center of the cloud, feeling something soft and slick just under the surface.

It was a dome. It was transparent except for the dark inky black of this cloudy chemical substance swirling around inside of it. Was it made of glass? No, just like the chemical itself it was a substance nobody had ever seen before. ‘Curiouser and curiouser,’ The Derby thought as he moved down the structure. The dome part of the device tapered down into the shape of a funnel, which was buried into the sea floor, possibly protruding down several more feet into the ground. The two halves of the dome where fastened together by metal rivets, and it was from the narrow slit between the two domes that the chemical was leaking into the river.

The Derby would have investigated further but at that moment he felt a strong hand grip his shoulder. He spun around to find two men in heavy diver’s suits on either side of him, trying to muscle him away from his discovery. The Derby managed to thrash away but it didn’t take long for the divers to grab him by his arm and leg, keeping him from moving.

Obviously, the Derby didn’t have much experience fighting underwater, but these thugs did. The Derby nonetheless tried to thrash his way loose. That was the moment one of the helmeted ruffians put his fist through the Derby’s breathing apparatus. The Derby managed to hold his breath before any water entered his lungs, but regardless, he knew the fight was over.

They took him to what appeared to be a silo built into the wall of the river. It was made of riveted iron and airtight. A large hose, just like the ones that attached to the hoodlums’ divers helmets, jutted out of the ceiling, providing them with air. The Derby was tossed into a corner of the silo as his assailants worked to remove the helmets from their heads.

“What are you trying to hide down here?” The Derby jabbed, using the direct approach.

“We are hiding you,” one of the thugs said, “From our progress.” Underneath their helmets they wore masks shaped like stopwatches, keeping their faces still obscured to the eyes of The Derby.

O O O

Mary Jane was led up to the third floor of the mansion, to a room that Hector Bellaco was staying in for the duration of his trip to London. Mary Jane looked past all the ornate decorations, paintings, and furniture to fix her eyes on the Spanish ambassador. He’d said nothing until they reached the bedroom on the upper floor. Once he was there, he placed his hand on the doorknob, twisted around towards Mary Jane and asked “My dear, how invested are you in the future?”

Mary Jane shrugged. Thinking of what a proper heiress would say she suggested, “Enough to know there are investments in my future.”

Bellaco leaned in. “That’s not what I meant. Do you think that if you saw something revolutionary right before your eyes, you would know it at first sight?”

“There’s only one way to find out,” Mary Jane said, gesturing at the door. Bellaco looked like he had more to say on the spot, but instead he opened the door. The two of them walked into what appeared to be a mostly empty room, with the exception of a large bulging object in the center of the room covered by a white bed sheet.

“I’m sure by now you wouldn’t be surprised if I told you I had a motive for being here besides being an ambassador from Spain,” Bellaco suggested.

“I wouldn’t,” Mary Jane agreed.

Bellaco moved to the sheet, holding a bundle of the still draped object in a loving embrace. “I have here, the single most important invention of the late 19
th
century, something that will change the very nature of life as we know it.”

“It looks like a bedsheet.”

Bellaco gave a smirk. “You are certainly a witty one.” He pulled back the sheet. Underneath the veil was a very large object constructed of a silver metallic material. A machine.

Mary Jane watched as Bellaco pulled a cord on the end of the machine, revving it to life. She saw the two protruding corners of the machine vibrate under a sequence of pistons which riveted so fast they made a linear blur in the center of the casing. For all its showmanship, though, the machine didn’t seem to do anything except run itself.

“What is it?” The words fell out of Mary Jane’s mouth before she realized.

“It is a revolutionary new form of engine that works about a million times faster than any coal-driven invention. It uses smaller and fewer moving parts. Part of the reason for my trip was to find a potential investor for mass production of this device.”

“An engine,” Mary Jane said dully “That’s funny, I don’t seem to see any sort of furnace or boiler on it.”

“Ah, that is what is truly what is revolutionary about this device: It runs on a revolutionary form of fuel called petroleum, which is created from refined crude oil. The fuel creates a series of small combustions which power the machine from within without the need for manual application.”

A light went on in Mary Jane’s head, just to be sure her hunch was correct, she continued to question “A fuel from the Earth’s crust, used to create internal combustion. Would it be highly flammable, and have properties similar to crude oil?”

“It would,” Bellaco said in a surprised tone. “I wouldn’t have expected you to know that.”

‘Neither would I, if someone hadn’t just told me,’ Mary Jane thought to herself. “And you believe this will change the world?”

“Of course this will change the world!” Bellaco scoffed, his eyes still fixated on the movement of his petrol fueled engine. “With this invention, the steam era will end, every large piece of machinery, every train, every large transport, and every factory device will be remade using these engines. There will be no more coal to stoke, and no more blistering steam factory conditions to endure.”

“But your future will require a lot of this new fuel to power those engines. Do you propose to dig it up all yourself?” Mary Jane asked, although having put it together in her mind, she found it wise not to stick around, and slowly began to move toward the door.

“Well, I have already begun extracting oil from a location hidden here in London, but I admit it would take a good amount of capital in order to create a venture like this worldwide. Alas, if only I were wealthy enough as, say, the Preston family. Then I could use their millions to-”

Bellaco turned away from the visage of his invention long enough to see that Mary Jane had escaped the room. “Oh drat!” he swore, seeing his attempt a kidnapping turned out to be a feeble one, he exited the room in search of her.