Alien Devices: Tesla joins crew to prevent alien zombie apocalypse (The Secret War Book 2) (5 page)

“That is my question Mr. Rogers. The Prometheus project, which
my father directed, spent the entire war attempting to answer that very
question; in vain I am sorry to say.” She threw up her hands, “Father used to
tell me that even the great Tesla himself could not unravel the answer. After
the war, the team was disbanded as 'non-productive'“ She now clenched her hands
into fists, as a hint of bitterness entered her voice. She looked around the
room. “Think of it! That much power could make the deserts bloom! It could end
hunger and want forever! We could enter a new golden age such as this world has
never seen.”

“The power to do anything,” Will muttered around his raised
mug. Will's quiet words stopped her, and a hint of color crept into Abigail's
cheeks as she looked at him. He had remembered her words to him standing in the
crows’ nest of the Wind Dancer.

“Yes, well, but I digress. . .” Abigail said.  She squared her
shoulders, placing her hands in her lap once more, and spoke more
dispassionately. “My father and some members of Prometheus continued research
even after the group was officially disbanded. For much of my life, we have
sought to re-create the Invaders’ methods of power generation, to no avail.
Lord Hadley and I both came to a conviction that we could only resolve the
matter by finding an intact Invader power-source. My father began secretly
searching the world for rumors and clues. I am here in China because he sent
word he had finally found an intact power source.” Rogers stirred at this,
crossing his arms.

“I am sorry, Milady,” Rogers said, “but it is more than likely
that your father has been taken advantage of by scoundrels. I have been to
places where they'll sell you the map to the 'Invader treasure' right along
with the one to King Solomon's' Mines two for a penny. The Invaders destroyed
everything of theirs along with themselves whenever we beat them. We never even
found a dead Invader's body, and we looked very hard. I was there at many
battles; I saw it.” Rogers uncrossed an arm and pointed at Will, “The Captain
saw it as well. I tell you Milady; it is not very likely.” When he'd finished,
Abigail found that her tea had grown cold. She reached over to the teapot to
heat her cup.

“I assure you Mr. Rogers,” Abigail replied, “that if Lord
Hadley says that he has found one, you may be certain that it is no mistake,”
she said calmly. “We have dealt with charlatans before.” Abigail shook her head
with quiet conviction. “No, he has really found one, and now he is vanished
with no word at all.  I am concerned.”  She hid her face behind the tea cup as
she drank. Will sat his mug down, and pulled at a braid in thought while Abigail
was talking.

“It seems to me that whether there is a thingamabob like Lady
Hadley describes or not, Petrov thinks that there is one.” He looked at Abigail
there was something he had to make sure of. “Abigail, did you not say that
Petrov asked you, 'where he was'? Abigail nodded vigorously at the question. 

“Yes!” She cried happily, “That must surely mean he is in
hiding somewhere?” She looked at Hunting Owl hopefully.

“Or,” Will said slowly, hating to damage that new hope in her
eyes, “it means that he's fallen in with some other rascals that we don’t know
about.”

“Oh yes, quite,” Abigail said looking down at her teacup. She
placed it down on the desk with determination. “Well, this is much more your
field of knowledge than mine,” she allowed looking around at them. “What is to
be done to find him?” To Will's surprise, it was Guang who spoke first, rising
from his chair to bow to Abigail.

“If you will allow,” he said. “I believe that if your honored
father still resides within the Shield, I am certain to find him.” Abigail
looked in startlement from Guang to Will. Will nodded encouragement to her.

“It's true that Guang would know this city better than any of
us,” Hunting Owl said. 

“I am deeply grateful for your offer, Mr. Guang,” she tripped
over pronouncing the name. “But I am afraid that I am not clear on your
position. Are a member of the crew I have not met before?”

“Regrettably no, Noble Lady,” Guang replied, “I am here as a
member of the House of An.” Will answered Abigail's look.

“That means that he is an associate of a new business partner
of ours here in Hong Kong,” the Captain said. When the Scholar raised a hand in
silent request for him to explain more, the Arms Master answered for him. 

“It means he is part of what you would call a criminal gang,”
Saira interjected. “You would do well, I think, to accept his help in this
Abigail. The An Family is very powerful.” Will ignored Saira's comment, and
looked pointedly at Guang,

“That still doesn't answer the question of why you're offering
though, Guang,” the Captain said to the An Family representative. Guang bowed
again, this time from the chair that he had claimed.

“The debt that the House of An owes you Captain Hunting Owl
would not even be touched if I aided the Noble Lady, as well as aiding your
ship, in our mutual endeavor. Hearing her tale, honor demands no less.” He
looked at Will with a steady butter-wouldn't-melt-in his-mouth look that said
Will could believe as much or little of that as he liked. Abigail picked up her
cup in both hands, while this exchange went on around her.

“I see.” She observed Abigail sat silently sipping her tea,
clearly in thought. “There is one thing I would like to know if I may,” she
finally asked looking up at Will.

“Shoot,” Will said to her.

“What have you done to have such. . .people be so indebted to
you?” She leaned forward. “I assume that it was not something as petty as
money. I only ask because if I am to trust this man with Lord Hadley's life I
must know what how strong your bond is.” Guang stirred in his chair at this.

“I believe that I must ask that the Noble Lady take a similar
vow to my own if you would speak of this, Captain Hunting Owl,” Guang said.
Will nodded at him.

“That's fair, Guang.” He turned to Abigail. “You understand
what he's asking for? You agree that you won't speak about this to anyone else,
ever. If you do, Guang here, and the whole Fong organization will simply kill
you, and whoever you speak to.” He looked at Abigail. “You still want to know?”
He asked.

“But you cannot ask this of Abigail,” Saira objected. “She is
not of our ways, and cannot truly know what she is swearing to.”

“I believe that I understand quite well, Saira,” Abigail
replied crisply. “While I admit I find it a most extreme way of doing things, I
do have my own curiosity now that you have brought it up. I agree to Mr.
Guang's condition.”

“Wait on that! We are outside of British law and custom here,” Will
cautioned. “It can't protect you in this. We are speaking of how things are
done among the World of Reeds and Air.” Abigail blinked at this.

“The World of Reeds and Air?” Abigail asked inquiringly.

“The society of the air devils,” Saira explained patiently. “Wherever
air devils go, there are also smugglers, thieves, and others like Guang about.
We have all learned to get along together by making certain agreements and
rules you might say. Here in the East they call this the World of Reeds and
Air.   There are no courts that cover the whole planet, too many countries.
Instead, it's understood that your word is bound by your life. Once you give
it, you cannot speak of this to anyone. Should Guang or anyone of the An Family
hear that you have, then they are within their rights to kill you. You had best
understand that. The Oath is taken very seriously.”

“I understand completely. Especially as someone tried to kill
me earlier today,” Abigail said impatiently. She looked at the Captain as she
spoke, “And I do agree to Mr. Guang's Oath. Now what was this mysterious
service?” Will sighed at Abigail's speech before he spoke.  

“Well, we didn't happen on Hu Fan's ship by accident,” the
Captain explained. “He was carrying something that was stolen from the maker,
and belonged to An Fong. We got it back as well as found you.” He paused, “It
was a mechanical heart. I suspect that An Fong's heart is giving out on him and
he wants to keep living.”

“They can do this now?” Saira breathed in wonder.

Captain Hunting Owl shrugged at her reaction. Will hadn't seen a
need to tell anyone except Rogers what the package was. It had been Gustupha,
the Indian Savant whose call sign with Will was Mouse, who had built the thing.
He still didn't see any reason to mention that Mouse and he had planned that
Wind Dancer would play the courier for it. It gave them a chance to get close
to the reclusive crime lord. The theft had actually set them up better than
Will had hoped. His eyes rest on Guang for a moment. No need to mention that
either, he thought.     

“Well, it's a thingamabob that keeps the heart pumping anyway,”
Will said to Saira instead. “You charge it like a sparkie.” He looked back at
Guang. “It's not the sort of thing you can really keep secret for long you
know. People sort of notice a big cable sticking out of your chest.”

“An Fong knows this,” Guang said placidly. “The secrecy is
needed now however. Others may try to assault House Fong if they perceive that
the ruler is weak. After the procedure is finished, he will ensure that no one
makes such a mistake.” Abigail frowned at this revelation.

“I have read of this in journals,” the Scholar said, “but I
thought that it was purely theoretical. How do you know this was an actual
device?”

“Well the tinker who made it told me,” Will said evasively.
Abigail raised her eyebrows at that.

“Indeed,” she remarked skeptically. “And who might this
'tinker' be?” Will looked at Abigail, and realized that she wasn't going to let
this go. He tugged absently on his braid for a moment. 

“Remember, Abigail,” he said, “that what we say here must go no
farther. If you speak to anyone of this, it could endanger innocent lives. His
name is Gustupha. Nice man.”

“You do not mean Gustupha Butthi?” Saira asked. “This is why we
were in Calcutta so long? You know him?” 

Will winced. He'd hoped to only give away enough to satisfy Abigail's
curiosity. He should have known better. The name would be too famous to just
pass by.  Abigail's face also showed surprise equal to Saira's outburst.

“Are you saying.” Abigail demanded, “that one of the Council of
Science, the saviors of mankind, the leader of Northern India, built such a
thing for a crime lord?” Will shrugged, holding up his hands towards her.

“Like I said, he's a nice man,” Will replied. “Remember what
you promised, Abigail.” The Capitan looked around the room. “And I should not
have to remind anyone else.” 

“Excuse me,” Rogers interrupted from where he stood by the
door. “While this is all well and good, I would like to return to the questions
at hand. If we agree that Guang here is to lead the search for Lord Hadley,
then we are free to pursue our original purpose here until he is found. I
believe that Lady Hadley is not concerned with that.”

“I would like to help you if I may,” Abigail said quickly. “I
will accept Mr. Guang's help, but waiting around doing nothing would not be my
choice.” Will figured that Rogers was right about Abigail and was about to say
so, when Guang spoke.

 “It will be very hard to reach Madame Chang,” Guang
volunteered. “She in unapproachable, there is no way to get to her. She never
leaves her establishment. It caters to the vices of the upper classes of Hong
Kong, both white and Chinese. Drugs, unusual sexual doings, strange European
music are to found there. The patrons are all very wealthy, very powerful.”

“Every organization has weaknesses,” Hunting Owl objected. He
knew what Guang had done regarding speaking in front of Abagail, but figured
you could not put the cat back in the bag. She had heard enough already that
more wouldn't matter now.  Guang shook his head at Will's statement.      

“There are no pressures that can be brought to bear on either
her minions or herself,” Guang said. “It has all been tried, I promise you.”
Will's eyes narrowed in thought.

“How do patrons get into the place? Will asked. 

“I follow your thought, Captain Hunting Owl,” Guang replied. “It
is impossible to infiltrate that way. Every patron has a token that allows only
the patron, and the guest they chose, are allowed to enter. It is a small white
card. It cannot be counterfeited.”

“Steal one,” Saira suggested promptly.

“It has been tried,” Guang said forlornly. “Neither the
thieves, nor the patrons they stole it from were ever seen again.”

“Ouch,” Will said at this news. It seemed that An Fong had
been right in his cautions, he thought. “Alright,” Will said, “there has to be
a way to do this. What about disguising people as Chang’s folk and getting in
that way?” He noticed Abigail opening her map case for some reason. Guang shook
his head again.

“That has also been tried, Captain Hunting Owl,” Guang replied.
“Chang's people all live at the establishment and are known to each other.”   

“Excuse me,” Abigail said, holding up her hand. “Would this
token you are all talking about look anything like this one?” Everyone stopped
talking to stare at the white card in her hand.

Chapter 6

A
bigail accepted Captain Hunting Owls' hand
as they exited the hired steam car.
She was careful not to become entangled
in her cloak while still having it cover her body completely from throat to
ankles.  It was important that her risqué costume be hidden until they entered
the club. It was a skill she had honed on many trips in London to similar
establishments. She briefly touched her mask to ensure that it was still in
place, and smiled at Captain Hunting Owl who was playing the gallant.

His suit was an unfashionable black, as was his simple domino
mask, but she had to admit he looked good in it. She had been so taken up with
gathering suitable ensembles for both Saira and herself that she there had been
no time to supervise his costume. She supposed that she should be grateful that
he even possessed a formal suit.

After she had produced the card back in the Captain's day
cabin, they had given it to Mr. McGuire to examine. He had discovered that
there was a cleverly concealed metal reader-strip that could be spooled from
the card, displaying both the names and pictures of her father and herself.
This explained how impostors were so swiftly caught. It also shocked her. As
far as she knew, her father would not go to such places, and the thought that
he had planned for her attendance at one was distinctly uncomfortable. It was
however, the only clue they really had, and so she must act on it.  She also
thought it interesting that McGuire should be so skilled in such matters, but
wisely kept such an observation to herself. She had already observed that air devils
were, if not outlaws themselves, were unconventional at best.  

Once it was confirmed it was indeed a patron token, it was hotly
debated how best to use it to gain access to Madame Chang’s. Mr. McGuire
assured them that it would not be possible for him to create a duplicate or fake
copy.  Finally, all had surrendered to the fact that only Abigail could present
the card to gain entrance. It was decided that the Captain would go as her
escort, and Saira would attend as her servant.  She had been required to take
matters into her own hands however when she discovered how little they actually
knew of such places.

“How do you know we need masks,” Captain Hunting Owl had asked
plaintively. “And why do we need them?” She had merely gazed at him, reminded
again of how one so apparently intelligent could be so. . .naive. 

“As I mentioned before on our previous journey Captain, I am a
Scholar, not a nun,” she said with great care. “This will not be my first
sojourn to such an establishment. As for why we need masks, many things are
indulged in that cannot be acknowledged by polite society. This is the reason
such establishments exist. The rules are much the same wherever the British
flag flies. If your 'World of Reeds and Air' has its own cultural rules, be
assured that British Upper Society does as well. Masks provide a polite fiction
that you are not really you. Trust me, you do not appear bare faced in such
circumstances, not if you wish to appear of the proper class that is. Speaking
of which,” she looked at Saira, “I am not even certain we have the time for us
to find the proper evening wear.”

“Well, there are the ships slop chests,” Saira volunteered.

“'Slop chests',” Abigail repeated, drawling as if drawing out
each syllable.

“Yes,” Saira continued, “They are full of clothes that the ship
has picked up from here and there. Also, some of the others have bright things
I am sure they would lend us.” Saira rose from her chair in the Captains day
cabin.  “Let us be about it then!”

Despite her initial misgivings, they had managed to find enough
suitable items that Abigail felt confident they could appear acceptably, and
provocatively, attired.

Stepping into the warm evening air behind her 'mistress' as a
good servant should, Saira joined them as the steam car moved away. Like
Abigail she was wearing a long cloak that concealed what she was wearing, or
rather, not wearing. Whatever styles of clothing may be allowed inside, public
discretion outside the establishment was an absolute must.  The building itself
was a large affair of three stories, decorated lavishly in what Abigail assumed
to be a Chinese style, with red, lacquered wooden beams, painted panels on the
walls, and slanted roof tiles. Many lanterns of different colors were hung
about, and the sound of people and music within was just audible when the doors
opened briefly to admit those with invitations. Given the mufti that those
around them wore, Abigail was even more confident that she had made the right
sartorial choices for the evening. 

“Remember,” Will said. “We stick together until we get the lay
of the land. Trouble happens, get out best you can and make for the car.
Sebastian will know what to do next.” She nodded at this. Privately Abigail had
no intention of leaving while there was a remote chance that she could learn
more of her father's fate. The gang member, Guang, had left the ship while they
were planning; vowing to her that if her father was in Hong Kong he would find
him. She held little hope of his success.

“We should go in,” Abigail advised. “Lingering will only draw
attention. After all, we are supposed to be noble jades eager to celebrate.”

“All right then,” Will extended to her his arm. “Shall we go
see how the uppers do it?”

“They do it much as everyone else does, only more boringly,”
Saira remarked dryly.

“Hush,” Abigail hissed at her. “You're supposed to be my
subservient maid, remember?”

Saira smiled at her wickedly, and then gave a deep formal bow.
Abigail sniffed at the mock subservience.

They entered the unmarked door into a sort of antechamber. Even
here the smells of tobacco, hemp and opium wafted through the air like incense. 
Along their right side ran a high counter behind which sat a bored looking man
with a reader monocle. Directly in front of them stood a living mountain of a
man in an ill-fitting emerald evening suit. His scared swarthy face did not
change expression as he silently held out his hand.

Abigail placed the white card in his huge paw-like hand. He
glanced at it once and handed it up to the man behind the counter.  Adjusting
his monocle, the counter man placed the card out of sight on the table, where
he must have a concealed wire reader, Abigail thought. He then looked down at
Abigail, then back at the card again. Abigail held her breath.

“Patrons are allowed one guest,” the monocle wearer said.

Abigail assumed a languid pose, leaning in to Will, caressing
his arm. “The woman is my servant and is the entertainment for my guest here.”
After looking at them skeptically for a moment, the desk-reader wordlessly handed
the card back to the man-mountain, who in turn handed it back to Abigail.

“Enjoy your evening, Patron,” the mountain rumbled.

Gripping the card, Abigail nodded at the giant as he swept back
a heavy red curtain behind him with a bow.

On the other side of the curtain, they were assaulted by a wave
of music along with a confusion of many voices. A woman, naked save for thigh-stockings
and shoes, appeared at Abigail's side.

“May I take your cloak, Mistress?” the woman asked in a husky
voice. Abigail nodded her permission, and the woman deftly removed her wrap.
She noticed a man, similarly undressed, perform the same service for Saira.
Taking in Abigail's attire, her coat servant bowed deeply in approval.

Abigail was dressed in 'New Woman' fashion, her outfit
consisting of a black corset and a length of emerald green silk that had been
gathered into a mock bustle. She was otherwise naked, save for a pair of very
brief bloomers that Saira had fortunately been able to produce, along with
jeweled garters for her stockings. She was the very picture of a modern woman,
loudly proclaiming her freedom from the strictures of Society.

Saira was wearing two ankle length pieces of white silk, knotted
together at the shoulders, and bound around the waist by a thick black leather
belt.  Open along the sides, her bare arms and legs flashed into view as she
moved. One could easily see that she was covered in black leather bands from
ankles to wrists. It was the perfect 'Grecian servant' costume.  Will had
refused the woman who wanted to take his coat. He leaned in close to be heard
over the noise.

“While I can appreciate that you both look lovely, I thought I
told you to come armed.” He said with disapproval. 

“We are.” Saira replied brightly. “Abigail has her sparkie, and
I my knives. Want to know where we hid them?” Abigail fought back a smile at
his nonplussed look. He shook his head decisively

“Never mind,” he said with a resigned air.  “I'll take your
word for it. What now?”

Abigail viewed the eclectic crowd gathered in the enormous,
high ceilinged room. Close by were groupings of tables with chairs where
different groups sat drinking and smoking, while watching the rest of the room.
Farther away stood a stage where a woman, dressed much as Abigail was attired,
played madly on a cello, singing in a lilting voice. Her voice, even
un-amplified, fill the space. She was surrounded by drummers and other string
players.

“My God,” Abigail breathed, clutching Will's arm. “That is Jade
Summer!” She started bouncing in time to the music in spite of herself. Will
looked at the stage and the crowd in front of it. Tall stovepipe hats bounded
up and down like pistons in beat with the music.

“Who's that?” he asked confused. Abigail looked at him, aghast

“Who is that?” she echoed.  “Surely, you have heard of Jade
Summer, the poetess of new beat music! She is simply swinging is all!” Much as
the New Woman movement challenged society's conceptions of women and their
sexuality, younger artists had begun combining rhythms and music from the world
over to challenge society's conception of who they were. It was generally called
'beat music,'. The music was engaging and fun in Abigail's opinion.

Jade Summer, English poet, cellist, and social revolutionary,
was one of the original figures of both movements. Leading an elusive nomad's
life, Summer's art had touched many of Abigail's generation through both the broad
wave and the sonograph. What the artist was doing in an establishment like this
was only to be wondered at. Abigail had never dreamed of seeing the artist in
person. Saira had begun to move and sway in time to the music.

“I have heard of her!” Saira shouted over the din and then bent
her head towards Abigail's.  “Do not mind Captain Will, he is a Proper Major in
some ways!” Abigail was surprised to hear modern beat slang from the Hindu Arms
master and grinned widely at her. Will shook his head at them both.

“Alright, I admit that I don't listen to the broad wave that
much,” he shouted at them to be heard over the din. “Can we focus on how we
find this Madame Chang, or her office?” Abigail stopped moving, feeling chagrined.

“I am sorry Will. It is just that I never thought I would see
her in person. It is a pleasant surprise. I wonder what she is doing here? You
are right though.” Abigail peered through the smoke haze. “We should probably
move towards the back of the hall. The more private areas will be back there.”

The three of them had just begun to move through the people
when suddenly the man-mountain from the front entrance appeared before them.
Will's hand crept towards his gun. 

“Madame Chang would like to speak with you,” the mountain
growled in a deep voice. Exchanging a look with Will, who nodded, Abigail
replied for them.

“Of course,” she shouted. “We would be honored to meet our
hostess.” The giant looked at her impassively. 

“Just you,” he pronounced.  “They stay.” Will spoke up quickly
at this.

“No,” he shouted over the din.  “Where she goes, we go.”

“Absolutely,” Abigail agreed. “My companions must come with me.”

Still looking impassive, the mountain looked down at them for a
moment then grunted.

“Follow,” he said shortly. He turned his back on them and moved
solidly forward through the crowd of revelers.

The giant parted the gaily dressed crowd like a great ship
moving through the waves of a strange ocean, the three of them trailing in his
wake. Abigail heard Jade starting to sing “Absinthe Makes My Lover Grow Fonder”
when they reached the other side of the hall.

The large man led them past a series of plush divans where
masked revelers where engaged in intimate couplings in groups of three or more.
Saira leaned close to Abigail.

“I have no idea that toffs had this much fun,” she said in her
ear.

“It's early in the evening yet,” Abigail replied dryly. “It's
sure to be livelier as the night progresses. Then there also more private rooms
here I'm sure.” Saira looked at Abigail with surprise.

“And here I thought that you were shy like most English mud
feet,” the Arms Master said.

“Compared to those here, I most certainly am,” Abigail
retorted. “I have only been to such places with very close friends, I assure
you. When not listening to the music, we used those private rooms I spoke of. Here
we are, I think.”

The giant had stopped before another red-curtained alcove,
flanked by two well-armed men. One of them twitched the curtain aside to reveal
a door. Turning to see that they were still following, their giant escort
opened the door to a landing with a tall staircase.  They all began ascending the
flight of carpeted stairs.

The door closed behind them, shutting out the noise of the
hall. When they reached the top there was another door with two more men
guarding it. These men, Abigail noted, carried large guns cradled in their
arms.  After exchanging nods with the men, one of whom opened the door, the
giant walked though.

The room beyond not was Abigail was expecting at all. The walls
were covered by exquisite tapestries in muted, jewel tones, some of them
reminding her of the strange picture in her father's map case. The air was
scented by a clean floral scent wafting from braziers. Abigail found it a
refreshing change from the thick smoke below. Their strange escort stopped and
with a grace surprising for his size, nimbly turned to the side, revealing a
figure sitting in a chair and reading a scroll. The figure lowered the scroll
and regarded them as they approached.