"Who is the deceased man?" inquired Murdoch.

"That would be Percy. He was my night watchman."

"And what exactly was he guarding?"

"Something very important. It would be hard to describe. I think it's easier if I just show you."

There was no need to unlock the door as it had clearly been broken into. Pendrick led them inside and Crabtree gasped at what lay before them. And with good reason. A massive mechanical contraption was situated right smack in the middle of the room. But it wasn't on the floor, it was partly submerged in water. A large part of the ground had been cut away to accommodate it's immense size.

"What is it?" asked Crabtree in an awed voice.

"A submarine, George," said Murdoch knowledgeably.

"Close, detective, but not quite. This is the future of underwater exploration. I call it the Nautilus." Murdoch smiled at this as that was the name of the submarine in Mr. Verne's novel. "Although it has many things in common with a modern submarine, it is far superior in almost every way. Its two hundred and fifty feet can hold up to ten men. Its electric propulsion system allows it to reach speeds of up to fifteen knots. And because the hull has been constructed with reinforced steel, it can withstand extreme pressures and travel to depths of almost three hundred metres."

"That's quite an accomplishment," said Murdoch, himself awed. "I've only read of submarines capable of reaching about fifty metres."

"Yes," said Pendrick smiling. "They have a long way to go yet. But I haven't even told you the most miraculous thing about it."

"Oh," said Murdoch, wondering how it could be any more grand. "And what would that be?"

"Since I have designed the Nautilus to primarily be a mechanism for furthering scientific knowledge of marine life, there is a special hatch that connects to another vehicle. This vehicle is attached to the underside of the hull and allows for a smaller two man exploratory team to leave the main ship while submerged. This vehicle has mechanized arms, that can be controlled using a variety of levers, similar to a how a puppeteer manipulates his puppet. As well, there is a rather large net attachment. These two features allow one to take his pick of all that the beguiling sea has to offer."

Murdoch was at a lose for words. He had never heard of anything so amazing in all his life. He wondered if even his idol Mr. Tesla's brilliance was a match for this mans. Of course it was rather hard to compare the two as they mostly worked in completely different fields of study. However, there was no denying that Pendrick was a singularly gifted individual. If he hadn't been a detective, he would consider it an honour to work along side him on a future project. Of which, Murdoch thought, there would be many.

"That's bloody brilliant!" exclaimed Crabtree.

Pendrick eyed him with a wry expression and said, "Yes, thank you young man for that vote of confidence." Turning again to Murdoch he said, "And now that I've answered your questions, detective, I think it time you answer mine. Could you please tell me what possible reason you have for being here?"

Pulling himself together he said, "I'm following a lead in my current investigation. A man was murdered several days ago in Toronto near the waterfront. His name was Jarvis."

Pendrick closed his eyes and said, "Of course it was." Opening them he said, "I knew something was off about that young man."

"Would you care to explain that comment, sir?"

"I noticed him studying the blueprints for the Nautilus when he thought no one was looking. A lesser man might have construed his rapt attention as simple admiration. But I've always been wary of such signs, especially when a stranger is involved. And Jarvis was new to that team of scientists. So when they went out on their latest expedition, I took the liberty of stowing them away in a safe place. And now it would appear that my precautions were justified. When I came in today, shortly before noon, I found my office in disarray and the special box I had stored them in missing."

"They took the whole thing?" said Crabtree quizzically. "Why would they do that?"

"No doubt they couldn't figure out how to open it. I did take great pains to ensure it couldn't be broken into easily." Pendrick smiled wryly and said, "Whoever is responsible is likely pulling their hair out right about now."

"Forgive me, Mr. Pendrick, but why would anyone bother stealing the blueprints? Don't you have a patent on this design? It would be highly illegal for anyone to try and duplicate it."

"Don't be so naïve, detective. Do you really think that the type of people who commit multiple murders are going to care about legalities? Besides which, I theorize that they wouldn't be building an exact duplicate anyways. I have the distinct feeling that they plan to modify it for rather destructive purposes."

"You think they're planning on creating a war machine?"

"That would be my guess, yes, detective. The last thing I ever wanted my invention to be used for was chaos. However, I'm not too worried about this occurring."

"And why is that?" asked Murdoch.

"Let's just say that if they succeed in breaking into it, there's a surprise in store for them."

Several thoughts occurred to him then. One was that Jarvis was likely killed for failing to complete his assigned task. That would also explain the attackers apparent fury. As to why they had been scheduled to meet in Toronto, he was uncertain. Wouldn't it have been simpler to hand them over in Nova Scotia? Perhaps the plan had been to get some distance between the theft? Or was it something else altogether? Now that the person or persons responsible for the theft had been successful, would they be heading back to Toronto?

There was no way to know for sure and besides which, he had no idea who they were yet. The only further investigating he could accomplish right now involved examining the dead guard. Maybe the criminals had slipped up a bit and left behind a clue this time?

Murdoch approached the detective on site, hoping he would be more helpful than the constable from before. He wasn't. But the medical examiner there was. He was a nice elderly man who had no qualms about telling Murdoch his findings. As far as he was concerned, the more the merrier.

"So, as you can see," said Archibald, "this man was clearly strangled. And by an extremely strong fellow, I'd wager. This poor man was likely dead in seconds."

He was indeed correct, the killer had been able to squeeze so hard that they had ripped through the skin in several places. Murdoch didn't fancy being cornered by whoever did this.

"Anything else you can tell me, doctor?"

"I'm afraid not, detective. But I'd need to do an autopsy to know that for sure."

"All right then. Thank you very much, sir."

"My pleasure."

Murdoch ignored the stares of the other police men present and headed back to the warehouse. There he found George gawking at the Nautilus and Pendrick describing other things about it.

"...imagine makes it quite heavy. In fact it's around 183 tonnes. Furthermore,-" Pendrick stopped talking when he saw Murdoch nearing. "What have you discovered, detective?"

"Nothing I didn't already know."

"I see," said Pendrick, clearly annoyed. "And how do you plan to remedy your lack of knowledge?"

"I believe that you can help me there."

"Oh, really? How so?"

"I need a list of all your competitors. Or anyone at all you think would want to steal your design."

"That would be an extremely long list, detective. People all over the world would kill for it."

"Yes, and now they have," he said gravely. "So if you want to prevent more bloodshed, you better start talking."


After contacting all of the local competitors and learning nothing new, they found themselves aimlessly wandering around. It was then that a street kid called them over to him. He appeared to be the leader of a group of little rascals as he was sitting on the top of some stairs, with the others all below him.

"What do you want?" asked Murdoch politely.

"It's not what I want copper, it's what you want."

"Oh, do tell."

"Me and my boys here heard ya were lookin' for some bad men. I can help ya find 'em." He smirked and said, "And all it'll cost ya is two dollars." The other boys laughed at that.

"Now see here you hooligan-" began Crabtree.

"George. That is quite unnecessary." Turning back to the leader, "And why should I believe you?"

"It don't seem like ya got much of a choice, now do ya?" Murdoch started to turn away and the child said, "One of 'em's got brown hair and the others a strong lookin' bald bloke.

That statement got his attention and he stopped in his tracks. "Where did they go?"

"Nice try copper but I want the money first."

Begrudgingly Murdoch searched around in his wallet until he found enough change. Then he handed the nearest boy half of it.

"So distrustful," said the homeless kid shaking his head. Again the boys laughed. "Fine copper, have it your way. My boy Warren here saw 'em leavin' the docks the other night after they killed that poor bugger. He followed 'em all the way to the pub."

"Which pub?"

"The Pot of Gold."

"And have they left it since?"

"Not that we know of."

Murdoch tossed over the remaining coins and was on his way.


A half an hour later, they found the pub in question. It was dank, dirty and crowded. And as a result, uproarisly noisy. They scanned the room for the men in question, getting many odd looks back, but couldn't discern anything specific in the hoard. So Murdoch flashed his badge at the barkeep and the noise died down almost immediately. The effect was rather unsettling but he tried to pay it no mind.

"What can I do for you this fine evening, detective?" said the semi-toothless proprietor.

"We're looking for some men."

"Hey buddy, this ain't that kinda establishment!" yelled a drunk fellow among the mass. Riotous laughter ensued.

Crabtree looked like he wanted to punch the guy out but couldn't as he didn't know which one said it.

"Shut up you drunken louts!" screamed the bartender. "Show some respect!"

They quieted down again and Murdoch said, "Thank you, sir."

"Don't mention it, detective."

"Now as I was saying, we're looking for two criminals. They murdered a watchman down by the docks. We have reason to believe that they may be hiding out here."

The barkeep appeared very uncomfortable with this news. So much so that he accidentally dropped the mug he had been cleaning on the counter. "You don't say? How horrible."

Murdoch glanced at the stairs beside the bar, where a man was currently ascending. "Do you have rooms up there?"

"Yes."

"Have you recently rented any out to a man with short brown hair and a muscular bald man?"

"As a matter of fact, I believe that we did. One for each of them."

"I'm going to need you to give me access to those rooms now."

"Of course, detective."

The bartender led them up the stairs and opened the door to room five. Murdoch and Crabtree barged in, ready for anything. It turned out that there was no need for caution, there was no one there. There was, however, an open window. Then they headed to the other room and found the exact same thing.

"Darn it!" yelled Crabtree, punching the air.

Murdoch thought of something then. He was annoyed at himself for not seeing it earlier. Turning around quickly he grabbed the barkeep by the collar and said loudly, "Did you help tip them off?"

The barkeep broke out into a cold sweat and exclaimed, "They made me! They said they'd kill my family if I didn't help them out! I had no choice!"

"Where is the other man? The one that went up the stairs just before we did?"

"I don't know! Maybe he went with them!"

"Uh, I don't think so, sir." said Crabtree standing by an open closet door.

Still holding on to the poor fellow, Murdoch marched over there and saw what Crabtree was talking about. There was a man sitting in shadow, propped up against the wall there.

"George, check to see if he's alive."

Crabtree knelt down and placed his fingers on his neck for several seconds.

"Yes, sir, it appears so. He's just out cold."

"Do you have any smelling salts?" Murdoch asked the bartender.

"Maybe. Might be some downstairs."

"George, go with him and make sure he doesn't try anything."

"Right away, sir," he said grabbing him by the arm and steering him out of there.

In the meantime, Murdoch surveyed the room for anything out of the ordinary. He went back to the other room and did the same. There was still nothing to find.

Five minutes later they returned. The bartender handed over the salts and Murdoch put them to good use. Within seconds the unconscious man awoke. He gazed up at them in an unfocused, confused manner.

"What happened?"

"You were knocked out."

"Ah, that would explain why my head hurts so much." He massaged the back of it for a few seconds and then said, "Oh, I'm supposed to say something to a detective Murdoch."

Crabtree and Murdoch shared a surprised look.

Why am I being mentioned by name?

"I'm detective Murdoch."

"Great! Now what was it? Oh yeah! Stay away from us if you don't want to get hurt. The next time I see you, I might get my colleague to rearrange your face. Like I did with Garvis. Or was it Jarvis?"

"Did a brown haired man tell you to say this?"

He nodded.

"Do you have any idea where they were headed? Did they mention anything at all?"

Murdoch didn't expect that they would have let anything slip but he had to know for sure. They so nearly caught them tonight.

"I don't think so," he said slowly. "Hmm, wait a minute. They might have."

"What did they say?" Murdoch asked eagerly.

"The bald one said something about 'needing him'. Whatever that means."

Murdoch instantly knew what that meant. And it didn't bode well for Mr. Pendrick.