13
October 1862
Now
I can write it down, now there is no longer concern of discovery! However, our attainment was not anything
we'd envisioned. Our plot achieved the
end of our captivity, but our true state of affairs has now been revealed and
it is quite unexpected.
Our
plans began several days ago. Fogg and
Passepartout took care to appear slow in recovery. Fogg continued to limp long after his ankle stabilized and
Passepartout grimaced much whenever the doctor treated his arm. Also, we early concluded that these
kidnappers did not know the fighting skills of our two trained Agents and kept
this secret. We contrived to look as
helpless and pitiful as possible and apparently succeeded quite well. At times our guards acted more like
nursemaids or servants than wardens. It
was clear that we could break out if we so desired, but then where would we
go? Rebecca recklessly insisted on
action and Fogg counseled caution. As
usual in the end Rebecca won.
For
my part of the escape, I observed the lighting that brightens every room and
traced how electrical current flows through wiring to the desk lamps. With that wiring, a small woven rug just
inside our door and a pitcher full of water I prepared an electric trap to
disable one or both of our guards. Rebecca and Fogg were to immobilize any that escaped, while Miss Jude
and Passepartout would provide the impetus for entry.
Very
late last night was the appointed time, when spirits and blood are low. Rebecca stood by the door so the guards
could see her as they entered. Fogg and
I were behind it on the other side. When we were all in readiness, Fogg nodded at Passepartout and Miss
Jude. Miss Jude, as instructed, threw
an every day ladies' hysterical fit. Lying on the floor, she started screaming, drumming the floor with her
fists and heels and rolling back and forth. Passepartout ran to the door out of which stood the guards and beat
heavily on it. "Oh mon Dieu," he
cried. "Miss Carr she dying! Help, please help me!" This is a novelist's device hoary enough to
have whiskers down to the waistband, but perhaps these guards had read no
novels. Miss Jude was very convincing,
as red faced and wild as if she really had had a seizure, and actually foaming
at the mouth from an unsavory mixture of Passepartout's preparation.
As
Passepartout ran back to Miss Jude, I applied the wiring to the wet rug. A faint clicking in our door preceded its
opening. I could not see what then
happened, but among them Passepartout, Miss Jude, and Rebecca had set a
convincing scene. In came the first
guard and went down like a felled ox when he stepped on my trap. I immediately removed the wiring from the
rug so as not to stop his heart. The
other guard was close behind. Rebecca
knocked his ready pistol from his hands and then felled him with a quick blow
behind the head. It was all very neat,
quick and quiet and the two young men lay on the floor.
"Cousin,
that was unkind. I was supposed to help
you!" Fogg protested.
"You
take the next one, Phileas," was her reply.
We
dragged them in and tied them. How soon
others would note their absence we could not tell but better hidden than
sounding an alarm. Fogg and Rebecca
each took one of their small black revolvers.
Down
dimly lit hallways Fogg and Rebecca stole, holding their pistols straight
before them at the ready. The rest of
us followed. Perhaps we made a large
party for such quiet stealing, but we could scarce leave any behind. Fogg led the way as he had seen much of the
installation while assisting with Aurora's repairs. We traversed several corridors and passed an outside access.
Gesturing
at a double door further down the hall, Fogg whispered, "I saw that door open
yesterday. Quite a few scientist
fellows were coming out and I could see behind them a whole wall of those
zoetrope things. I'm for heading
there."
"Really,
Phileas? Spoiling for a fight, are we?"
Rebecca returned quietly as she moved in the direction.
"Been
too long abed, dear cousin," was Fogg's reply.
The
doors had small viewing windows through which, despite the late hour, we could
see a half dozen scientists and countless flashing devices at work within. I saw neither guards nor weapons.
Fogg's
lips drew tight over his teeth in a fierce grimace. "Shall we?" Rebecca asked. "After you," Fogg responded, but they burst through the doors together,
the rest of us trailing closely.
Pointing
their guns around quickly, Fogg and Rebecca tried to cover every corner of this
extraordinary room. The scientists
looked up from their devices quite surprised. They all sat before panels very like flat typewriters. Each of those panels lay in front of a
zoetrope across which figures, words and numbers crawled. As Fogg said, there were countless zoetropes
in this room.
Fogg
quite loudly said, "If you would be so good as to lie on the floor, it will
save us all some time!"
None
moved, but all looked to an older man seated at base of the largest item in the
room, a cannon-looking device directed at a blank wall. He was clearly the leader. Fogg pointed his pistol at him. "Tell them on the floor then!" The old man nodded at the others who moved
to follow his command and shortly littered the floor with bodies. The old man stood up himself, however, and
eyed Fogg very calmly.
"Jules
Verne, I presume," the old man said in an American Southern accent.
"No,
Fogg," was the reply, "Phileas Fogg. You have the advantage of me, sir."
"Phileas
Fogg. Certainly. And I'm the Easter bunny." When Fogg raised his gun and moved several
steps closer to make sure he wouldn't miss him, the old man the man thought
better of his defiance and continued, "As I'm sure you know, I am Roger
Michaels. I own BeamMeUp Corporation,
at least until I run out of money. Perhaps you recall my son, Gavin? I understand he saved your life, Mr. Fogg."
"So
my friends have told me, Mr. Michaels, but I have not memory of it. Now please tell me where you are keeping
William Carr and we will be on our way," Fogg replied. Rebecca moved around the room as these two
talked, checking the prone scientists for weapons and tipping chairs over them
to hamper them from rising.
"And
why should I do that, Mr. Fogg? You are
here to steal the beamer, right? Who
sent you? G.E.? Boeing?"
In
one long step Fogg closed the remaining distance between himself and the elder
Michaels and cocked his pistol. He held
it to the older man's head. Fogg's eyes
looked dangerous, his teeth were bared. Spacing out his words, as he does when infuriated, Fogg said, "I . . do
. . not . . know . . Mr. GeeYee or Mr. Boeing. I . . seek . . only . . the child . . William Carr."
Michaels
said, "You can threaten me all you want, Mr. Fogg. Threats come easy. But
you'll never make the beamer work without me."
At
this point Fogg moved his pistol from Michael's head to the mechanism behind
him. "This thing? This is your beamer?" he asked. "I don't give a damn about this thing. Shall I prove it? Where shall I put a bullet hole, Mr. Michaels? Here? Here?"
The
old man reacted much more strongly than when the gun had pointed at his
head. "No, don't!" he said. Then quickly, "Peters, get that little boy
Gavin snagged with the probe last month." Engineer Peters roused himself from among the men and women still
sprawled on the floor and was about the leave the room, when Fogg said, "No
wait. Passepartout go with him."
"Gladly,
Master," was that man's quick reply as he followed Peters out.
"Now
you will tell us why you kidnapped William Carr, Mr. Michaels," Rebecca
demanded.
"Can
my people get off the floor, Miss, Miss uh, I didn't get your name?"
"It's
Fogg, Mr. Michaels, Rebecca Fogg. Tell
us why you took William and I'll consider it," she responded.
"We
didn't take him, Mrs. Fogg. It was an
accident. Our control over the beamer
is rather limited. We sent that paper
marker you found through and your William came back, first human to survive
radio relocation. He seems just fine
too. Really quite a remarkable little
guy."
Miss
Jude broke in here, "But there was a creature. I saw it! It stepped through and
shot Rebecca and Mr. Fogg and they were bleeding, but they weren't! I saw it, I know I saw it!"
"You
were there? You saw the beamer
arrive?" Mr. Michaels was quite
excited. Even some of the people on the
floor craned up their heads.
Peters
and Passepartout now returned with a howling William, upset from his middle of
the night awakening. Miss Jude cared
not that he howled. She ran to Peters
and snatched her baby brother, making much over him, crying, laughing. It was a sweet reunion. The Aurora's crew gathered around Miss Carr
to see the child that had brought us so far and through so much, Rebecca and
Fogg trying to both cover the room and admire all at once.
A
chair crashed as one of those on the floor tried to arise, and the cousins
reacted instantly back to full battle mode.
"Look,
Mr. Fogg. I think we should talk,"
Michaels said with his hands up. "We're
not kidnappers and I don't think you're really corporate spooks. If we put our cards on the table, maybe we
can figure something out here."
As
Fogg cannot resist a gambling allusion, I chose this moment to supply my
scientific insight, "Fogg, I think this may be a teleportation device of some
kind. If we share information with
them, they may be able to send us home. I'm for a truce."
Fogg's
head inclined to his cousin, "Rebecca, I'm sure you have an opinion. Please give us the benefit."
"Well,
Phileas," she began, "we certainly aren't going anywhere without their
help. We can't handle their vehicles
and the Aurora isn't airworthy yet, is she?"
Fogg
shook his head. "No, not yet," he
admitted. He un-cocked the pistol and
put it in his pocket. "We'll listen. You talk."
Miss
Jude has interrupted me, having brought little William for my admiration and
supervision. He hangs in my left arm
while I attempt to inscribe with my right. I have been assured by all that William's health is much improved, and
although I did not see him in his former state, I can now testify that he is
the most active of baby boys. I fear I
must put down my pen and use both hands.