Tesla's Signal (46 page)

“I don't think so. After we left New York, he decided it was time to quit drinking. I guess he was scared sober.”

After Niko put the radio away, he turned to her. “Well...now we need yet another laboratory space.”

“I have an idea.” Clara fished a small card out of a pocket. “When I was hiding in the New York subway, a man told me to look up a 'Lodge Brother' near Philadelphia—at a town called Phoenixville. He gave me this card. '
Temple of the Phoenix. Windbrook Estate. Chester County Pennsylvania.'”
 

“Temple of the Phoenix? It sounds mystical. I hope it has nothing to do with the Silver Chamber...?”

“I don't think so. These people had
escaped
from the Orb. Look at the handwriting. I think that's a clue.” Clara pointed to the meticulous penmanship. “Remember when Davidson showed us his daughter's letter? She had nearly forgotten how to write.”

“Well, we don't have much choice. I'll trust your judgment—we'll go to Phoenixville. The legendary firebird that rises from the ashes!”

“Yes, that's us. Risen from the ashes.” Clara brushed at her smoky, charred clothing.

***

When they reached the mighty Susquehanna River, Clara breathed a sigh of relief: the aliens had not destroyed the truss bridge which carried trains and road traffic. Perhaps they were short on firepower. Or they they had been in too much of a hurry to get her and Niko.

But now...the thought of their retaliation haunted her.

Across the river, the weary fugitives found a secluded place to pull over for a few hours' sleep. At dawn they continued their journey across the fertile farmlands of Lancaster County. It seemed with every mile they found themselves stuck behind another buggy or wagon loaded with hay. “Come
on,”
Clara cursed under her breath. “Get moving, old timer!”

She pulled over near a secluded stretch by a stream “We have to wash up, Niko. We can't show up at this 'Lodge' looking like bums. I think I have a change of clothes in here somewhere. You?” After much searching, she found a crumpled skirt and ladies' jacket.

“Do we have any food in this car? I'd give my soul for a decent meal.”

“I suppose we can stop at one of these farm stands,” Clara finally decided. She bought some cheese and apple pie. Between them, they demolished most of the food within a few miles.

By late afternoon they arrived in Chester County, a lush region of horse pastures and large brownstone barns. Clara had to ask directions of a farmer and a mail wagon before they finally found the address on her card.
Through a covered bridge, past the stone barn, you'll come to a white-fenced pasture and a red-lettered sign. 'Windbrook Estate'.
 

There, beneath vast overhanging sycamores, stood a tall fieldstone farmhouse. Clara straightened her clothing, climbed onto a rickety porch which creaked beneath her, and knocked on the door.

Several fierce-sounding dogs barked from inside, but Clara refused to give up. She just kept knocking, for nearly fifteen minutes, until a tall, robust woman appeared at the door.

“Yes? What do you want?” The woman shooed a huge black dog away. “We're not interested in lace curtains, tea sets or magazine subscriptions.”

“Good afternoon, Ma'am. My name is Clara Eps. A man in New York City gave me this card and told me to contact you.”

The woman brushed strands of blonde hair from her face. “He did, eh?” She took the card, stared at it for a long time and studied Clara with piercing blue eyes.

Clara refused to be intimidated. “This man said that I would be welcome at your Lodge, because I was one of the Light Bearers.”

“Is that right?” A smile crept over the woman's rugged features. “Well then.” She gazed past Clara at the Roadster, where Niko waited concealed in the back compartment. “Your companion...who might that be?”

“There's no one in there...” How had the woman known? Niko was cautious about showing his face until he knew someone could be trusted.

“Yes there is. Tell him to come out, if you would.”

The woman had an imperious manner, like someone used to being obeyed. It was a peculiar contrast with her rough calloused hands, sunburned cheeks and muddy riding boots. Clara thought this woman might be one of the blue-blood country aristocracy of America.

“Very well.” Clara went back to the Roadster. “Niko? She knows you're there.” There was no more point in concealment. Either this was a friend, or... she didn't complete the thought, but she did reach into her bag and check for the small electric weapon. Just in case.

“All right. Let me make myself presentable.” Niko had found a change of clothing. Now he emerged from the far side of the Roadster and began to groom himself. While looking at his reflection in the glass, he carefully combed his hair, trying to make the curls lie down. They had grown way too long: he had not been to a barber in months. He brushed off his vest and collar and put on a tie that he had somehow located amidst the clutter of equipment. Next came a suit jacket and bowler hat.

“How do I look?” he said, smoothing his mustache.

Clara grinned. Their new hostess might be aristocratic, but somehow Niko also had the gift of looking like nobility: never mind that he had recently been crawling through the woods amid smoke and flame, fighting a battle with sky invaders. “Like you just stepped out of a fashionable men's shop.” She picked a stray twig out of his hair. “Come on, let's go meet our new hostess.”

With a last tug on his vest, Niko climbed up on the porch to face her. He took off his battered hat and gave her a courtly bow. “Good day, Ma'am, I'm—”

The woman covered her mouth. “I knew it! You've come at last!”

“I beg your pardon?” Niko stood holding his hat, in a pose of genteel dignity.

Their host reined in her emotion. “I'm Isabelle Shepard. Come with me, if you please.”

Within, a kerosene lamp lit a dusty parlor. Clara's eyes traveled over the ancestral portraits, the grandfather clock, and the fine oak furniture of great age.

About this time, Clara realized that she had sustained burns on her hands and arms. And despite her quick wash-up, she reeked of smoke. Niko also bore the scars of battle which his hasty grooming could not conceal. What could this woman think of them?

Their hostess turned to call someone else in the house. “Ophelia! Come here and meet our guests.”

A girl of maybe sixteen appeared, combing back her honey-blond hair. She wore riding boots and a short jacket, and smelled like she had just come from the stable.  

The woman turned to Niko. “I'm Isabelle Shepard—the Guiding Light of the Phoenix Temple. This is my daughter Ophelia. And you...” Isabelle suddenly sank on one knee, arms upraised. “You're the Great One whose coming has been foretold by prophecy: Lord Telstar, Light-Bearer of the Venusian Pyramid Council! Hail and welcome to the Temple of the Phoenix!”

***

“Forgive my discourtesy upon your arrival,” said Isabelle. “You can't be too careful these days.”

Clara could not help gazing at the fine furnishings of this house. They sat at a round table covered with a lace tablecloth, and drank tea from bone china cups. Against the far wall stood a massive carved buffet cabinet which contained a display of fine Lenox dinnerware. Overhead, a crystal chandelier threw rainbows on the walls.

Into this atmosphere of faded gentility, Miss Isabelle poured her tale of woe. “It has been rough for us. My husband—he was the minister at St. Peter's Episcopal Church in West Chester—he was murdered recently,” she explained. “It happened as he stepped out of church.”

“Oh, that's awful,” Clara murmured, “I'm so sorry to hear—”

Isabelle held up a hand, silencing her. “He had just delivered a sermon against the Forces of Darkness. 'They claim to be angels—but be not deceived by their silvery lights—they are minions of Satan'. That was the sermon he gave.” A tear rolled down Isabelle's leathery, tanned cheek. “A mob of devil's disciples surrounded him just as he left church. And nobody did a thing to stop them. Not even the police!”

“So they're expanding their reach,” Clara murmured. “Moving into Pennsylvania...”

Isabelle sobbed for a moment, then dabbed at her eyes with a silk handkerchief and made an effort to pull herself together. “You see...he knew the truth, because word had come to us of the Message.”

“Which message? You mean...”

“Why, the Warning, of course. About the Chamber of Lies. 'It will be  disguised as a nickelodeon, a modern film marvel, a Broadway show. Yet in truth, it will a gateway to Hell!'”

“Why, that's a version of
our
message.” Clara grinned. “I wish we had made it as poetic as you have.” Grinning, she turned to Niko. “Marconi can throw his Nobel prize in the trash,” she whispered. “
Our
radio broadcast was the most important message in the world.”

“Ma'am,” said Niko in a gentle voice,“we know about these false Angels. Their evil is much greater than you could imagine.”

Clara spoke up. “My friend and I have been fighting the Forces of Darkness for several months. In fact we just came from a battle, where we knocked the piss out of those
schmuck
s
,”
she finished, in a burst of enthusiasm—and then quickly regretted her street language. This was a lady of refinement!  

“Yes. Word has come to us from many sources,” said Isabelle. “I have seen it in dreams and visions. Our brothers and sisters of the Lodge have reported the signs. Fire has fallen from the sky. The Final Struggle is at hand.”

“Would you like more tea?” said young Miss Ophelia.

“No, thank you.” Niko spoke up. “Mrs. Shepard, my companion and I have dedicated ourselves to fighting these devils who call themselves Angels. We have been trying to build, ah, alchemical devices...magical defenses against them. But their followers have pursued us and we have been forced into hiding.”

“Oh dear Lord, you must be so brave,” Miss Isabelle wrung her hands in sympathy.

“Yes, it has been a struggle. I...I must ask you a very great favor. We are desperately in need of help.”

Miss Isabelle put a hand on his arm. “I will give you whatever aid I can.”

“God bless you, Ma'am. We need resources to fight these devils. A source of materials. Metals. If you know of anyone—”

“By all means,” said Isabelle. “You shall have the full resources of the Lodge. We have many wealthy members—one of our Fellows is an officer at the Phoenix Iron Works.”

“That would be splendid. And can you recommend a quiet place where we might work undisturbed? We need to hide from, ah, negative vibrations.”

“There is a huge stone barn on my property,” said Isabelle. “One of the oldest in the state. Pre-Revolutionary,” she said proudly. “I'm a member of the Daughters of the American Revolution. Our family has been here for two hundred years. And yourselves, good friends?” she turned to Niko and Clara. “It has been foretold that the Light-Bearer and his consort would come from the purest, most immaculate Arthurian bloodlines.”

 “Why of course we do,” Niko said with a lofty smile.

“Illustrious One, you shall have all the resources that you need. Come, let me show you the barn.”

Clara wished the woman wouldn't use those silly titles, but they were preferable to 'Public Enemy Number One and his nefarious accomplice.'

The large barn contained discarded harnesses, broken-down wagons, and dusty milk pails lined up on wooden countertops. But the roof looked intact. “This will be just perfect,” Niko pronounced. “Ma'am, I hope you don't take offense, but our workings will require complete secrecy—and privacy. If anyone should enter without permission...well, it could severely disrupt the energy field.” He gave her an ingratiating smile.

“Niko, you handled yourself perfectly,” Clara told him when their host had left. “She loves that fancy talk. You've got her in the palm of your hand.”

They pulled the Roadster into the barn and began setting up their equipment. The first task was to set up a receiver to tap the Tussey Mountain power network. “We can repay Miss Isabelle's generosity by electrifying her house. Those kerosene lamps are serious fire hazards.”  

Finally they sat on a hay bale and discussed their next project.

“The Angels must be installing Orbs everywhere,” Clara said. “So we'll have to build protection. More masking oscillators and mirror-phase jamming devices. Lots more.” She took the cover off the object she had used to escape New York City.

“Let me see the inside of that.” He took the cover off the device. “You used a piece of their first Orb?”

“That's right. It seemed to upset you, so I kept the project to myself. I accessed the Wisdom,” she tapped her forehead, “and I think we can duplicate the material now.”

“Brilliant! Clara, I'm sorry I acted like such an ass. We should make as many of these as possible.”

“Yes. Make them as wearable pendants, or disguised as pocket watches. Powered by the body's electrical field. We'll give them a mystical name. Let's call them 'protection amulets'.”