His Clockwork Canary

CHAPTER 36

Exiting the claustrophobic bowels of the catacomb and sewage tunnel, Simon had considered himself the luckiest bloody bastard on earth. This night alone he’d coldcocked the famous Sky Cowboy in defense of his sister’s virtue, saved his wife from the clutches of a Mod’s mind, located Briscoe’s clockwork propulsion engine, and, along with Phin’s help, disabled a ticking bomb. In addition to saving their lives, he’d ensured the well-being of a historical architectural treasure—Westminster Abbey.

In his somewhat dazed and euphoric state, it occurred that he’d spent the last few hours flirting with the kind of danger his brother, a secret agent for the Crown, no doubt faced every day. For once Simon’s timing had been bang-on, and that constant nagging impulse to make his mark upon the world had been miraculously snuffed. In the instant he’d pushed through the garden gate, hugged his sister, then laid eyes upon his wife’s beautiful tearstained face, Simon had imagined himself quite content spending the next few years engineering enhanced prosthetics and aiding Willie in the peaceful emancipation of Freaks.

He had not considered even an ounce more of excitement this night. So when Willie spewed an astounding tale of blackmail and deceit regarding a devious and powerful noble who went by the name Strangelove, Simon could not believe his ears.

“I never should have buckled under his threats,” Willie said, her sole attention on Simon even though the others listened intently. “But given the circumstances at the time, I could not afford involving the police. Please know I never truly intended to betray you. I thought I was protecting you as well as my family. I thought I could handle Strangelove, that I could somehow manipulate the situation. Then later, I worried if I told you, you’d be angry. That you’d never trust me again. That you’d . . .”

Her breath hitched and Simon pulled her into his arms. “You thought I’d leave you. Dammit, Willie.” Simon dropped his forehead to hers, tucked her shaggy hair behind her ears, and willed his temper even. “Why tell me now?”

“Because I’ve changed. I don’t want to go it alone. I don’t want to endanger my brother’s life, but I no longer want to surrender the ACC to Strangelove. What if he can access the data? What if he’s a threat to the world? He swore once I complied he would leave me and mine alone. But I don’t trust him.” She placed her hand over Simon’s heart. “I trust you.”

Twisted up with emotion, Simon kissed Willie’s forehead, then glanced over her shoulder at Clock Tower. “Less than thirty minutes to midnight. Not much time to devise a plan.”

Phin crossed his arms and regarded the former air marshal with a cocky expression. “Tangling with all those Wild West outlaws, you’ve no doubt encountered hostage situations. Any bright ideas, cowboy?”

“I can think of one or two, Casanova.” Gentry pulled a communication gadget from his pocket, and after seeing the one Strangelove had given to Willie, Simon decided he really needed to start shopping the black market.

“Tell them the weather could get rough,” Willie said when she heard Gentry speaking with his chief navigator aboard the Maverick.

“Hold,” Gentry said into the device, then turned his attention to Willie. “What do you mean?”

“Wesley’s supernatural gift. He can manipulate the weather. He’s been known to stir up violent storms when angered. If he’s anxious because Strangelove threatened him . . .” Willie hugged herself against a blast of frigid wind. “Blizzards, whirlwinds, hailstorms.”

“The Stormerator,” Amelia said, wide-eyed.

“That’d be an all-fired coincidence,” Eli said.

“What are you talking about?” Simon asked, pulling Willie close.

“Trouble in the form of a bastard sky pirate and his secret weapon,” Gentry said. “Your brother a good sort, Amelia?”

She dipped her chin. “Not really.”

“Think he’d use his gift for ill gain?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Son of a bitch.”

“But he’s still my brother,” she rushed on. “And he’s still being threatened by Strangelove.”

“Honey,” Gentry said, tugging his brim low. “My gut says you’ve been hornswoggled. Eli, take the dinghy and hide the coffin in the Maverick’s cargo bay. Amelia, go with him and ready Peg.” He spoke into the communicator. “Watch for a shark in a storm cloud, StarMan, and prepare to tussle.”

Phin checked his personal arsenal and Amelia jammed her Remington Blaster against Simon’s chest. “That derringer won’t cut it with Dunkirk and his men, Simon. Listen to Tucker, and crikey, shoot to maim.” She shocked Simon further by pulling Gentry down for a swift yet passionate kiss. “Hell of a honeymoon, Mr. Gentry. You owe me.”

She raced off to join Eli, and Simon marveled at his little sister’s transformation. She’d always been fearless, but smitten by a man? The equally besotted look on the former lawman’s face went a long way to quell Simon’s reservations regarding their whirlwind marriage. Although, good God, his own nuptials had been remarkably spontaneous.

He noted Willie’s worried expression and strapped the blaster over his chest. Giving her hand a reassuring squeeze, he nailed Gentry with a look of fierce confidence and commitment. “I’ve studied the designs of Westminster Bridge as well as Clock Tower and all of Parliament and the Abbey. I know every crook and cranny.”

“Then I’m in dire need of your intellect, Darcy.” He looked to Phin. “Amelia says you’re a crack aviator.”

“Nice to know she thinks I excel at something.”

“Catch up to her and tell her you need to borrow her pa’s dig. With your military training I could use you in the air.”

“Right, then.” Phin dipped into his coat and handed Willie his cherished Knuckle Shocker Stun Gun. “For backup,” he said. “I tweaked it a bit so it might actually pack the wallop Reggie intended.”

Phin raced after Amelia, and Willie looked up at Simon, eyes bright. “Somehow it feels like your father is with us.”

“He always was my greatest champion,” Simon said, heart squeezing. He looked to Gentry, inspired and ready to kick arse. “So what’s the plan?”

• • •

Bicycles were all the rage in London. Willie had pedaled more than a few, but none so furiously as the one “borrowed” from a passing citizen by Simon. Fortunately, Westminster Bridge was just down St. Margaret Street and to the east of Clock Tower. Unfortunately, an ominous fog was barreling toward her, obliterating the skyline and landscape, and obscuring even Willie’s most excellent night vision.

She steered onto Bridge Street and at once was consumed in the dense, swirling mist. She knew the House of Commons and Clock Tower stood to her right, but she could not see either of the magnificent structures. Her mad dash became a perilous crawl as she strove not to veer into a random vehicle or a midnight-strolling pedestrian. Although, from the deafening quiet, Willie would swear she was alone in the world just now. She took comfort in knowing Simon and their band of musketeers were out there, somewhere, poised for a joint rescue and ambush.

Gentry had doled out direct instructions and Willie had thought his plan most sound, except they’d anticipated a violent storm of sorts, not this insidious, all-consuming pea soup. It occurred to Willie that even though she’d asked for help, she might be going it alone after all. How could anyone help her if they couldn’t find her? The fog was not only blinding but disorienting.

A slight incline alerted Willie that she had reached Westminster Bridge. Her heart hammered against her chest as she now walked the bicycle whilst squinting through the supernatural veil in search of the glow from a streetlamp. Big Ben rang out, the first of twelve chimes, and never in her life had the Clockwork Canary been more aware of the time.

She saw it then, the hazy glow of three connected lamps atop the first pole. She quickened her stride, tempered her anxiety. This was her brother. Her blood. Even though they’d been at odds most of their life, surely he would not harm her. She’d hand over the memory disk as Gentry had instructed. Wesley would return to the Flying Shark and when he did, Gentry and crew would follow. The element of surprise was on their side and Gentry assured her and Simon that, in addition to reclaiming the Aquarian Cosmology Compendium, he would capture Strangelove. If the bastard was not on board, he would determine his true identity—information known to her brother as well as Captain Dunkirk—and hunt the man down. He strongly believed that the villain who’d masterminded the attempt to steal away Amelia’s targeted invention was the same man who’d manipulated Willie in a bid to bamboozle Simon.

Spying the second streetlamp, Willie slowed, her bootheels sliding over the icy road, her mind replaying Gentry’s instruction. “Give Wesley the disk. He’ll take it to Dunkirk. Lead us to Strangelove.”

Unless Wesley absconded with the disk himself.

She spotted her brother, leaning insolently against the lamppost, shrouded in a veil of fog and an arrogant manner. He looked much as he always had, dressed in ModVic attire, shocks of red hair stabbing out from underneath a purple fedora.

The last chime of twelve faded and Wesley’s mouth quirked. “On time, as always.” He held out his hand. “Fork over the goods, Sis, and I’ll pass it on to Strangelove.”

“The way you were supposed to pass my letter on to Simon?”

Wesley blinked.

Willie allowed the bicycle to tip over as she moved closer to her traitorous kin. “Why, Wesley? Twelve years ago, I entrusted you with an important letter, with my heart. You said you would take it to the rail station. You promised you would give it to Simon, but you didn’t. Why?”

He stuffed his hands in his pockets, then shrugged. “I was saving you from your knobhead self. You’re a Freak, Mina. You’re meant for another Freak. Stick to your own kind and someday Freaks will rule this world.”

“You’re crackers!”

“I’m smart. Which is more than I can say for you. You could be capitalizing on your gift, yet you drudge away in a Vic’s world, looking after the old man even though he barely provided for us.”

“What are you talking about? We never wanted for anything.”

“Didn’t we? They doled out attention and affection with an eyedropper. They moved us all over hell’s half acre and then some. Dad was obsessed with Mom. Mom was obsessed with protecting some twentieth-century icon. I knew it was volatile, maybe valuable, but I never guessed it was the compendium. Now give it to me and be on your way before my employer intercedes and takes a shine to you. He happens to like pretty young things.”

Reminded of her present mission, Willie scrambled to focus. She envisioned her brother and the pirate escaping under this suffocating cloak of supernatural fog and taking the ACC and Strangelove with them. In order for Gentry’s plan to succeed, he had to be able to see the Flying Shark. In order for her and Simon to move on, they had to put Strangelove behind them.

She needed to break the fog, and that meant breaking Wesley’s concentration.

“Mom never told us what it was that she was protecting,” she prodded. “How did you know it was from the twentieth century?”

“Because I followed her one day and overheard her talking to two other Peace Rebels. Because I cornered her later and told her we should sell whatever it was, make a fortune, and if she didn’t, I would. I’d find a way.”

“My God, Wesley! You’re the traitor!”

“Matter of perception, although I guess that’s how she saw it. Our tiff rattled her enough to consume her thoughts. She walked in front of that automocoach and my plan died with her. Those other two PRs disappeared with the stash, Dad went bonkers, and we were left high and dry. I tried tracking those Mods for over a year before giving up and making my fortune my own damned way.”

Shocked and sickened, Willie squeezed back tears. “How can we possibly be related?”

“Something I asked myself the day you took on the mundane job of a pressman.” Stone-faced, her brother pushed off the lamp pole. “Give me the bloody ACC.”

“Go to hell.”

He reached for her and she swung out with her injured right arm. The Thera-Steam-Atic Brace offered strength and her smack landed hard, knocking Wesley into the pedestrian wall.

Her brother roared and the fog diminished by half. Lightning cracked, illuminating the hazy night sky, and there it was, hovering over the Thames—the Flying Shark!

Willie heard the scraping of an iron grate and she knew it was Simon, beneath the bridge. She knew he’d heard enough and that he was coming to her rescue, only the fog started to thicken as Wesley shook off her blow. She dipped into her pocket, slipping her fingers through Reginald Darcy’s invention just as Wesley charged. Her swift uppercut connected with his chin with a loud ZAP!

Hair smoking, he literally sailed through the air, plowing once again into the bridge’s wall, only this time the force sent him toppling over.

Willie lunged, catching his arm before he plummeted into the dark, wintry river. Deadweight. The Knuckle Shocker had stunned the marbles out of her brother and if she lost her grip, her brother was fish bait. Thank God for her enhanced strength via Simon’s brace.

“Let me help.” Simon was there beside her, reaching down, grasping her brother’s arm.

Willie heard horse hooves clopping against the pavement. She glanced over and saw the Sky Cowboy galloping toward them on a black steed. She could see him clearly. No fog!

She heard an explosion and looked up to see the Flying Shark’s zeppelin in flames and the Maverick flying out from behind Clock Tower, cannons blasting.

Her muscles screamed as she held tight to Wesley whilst Simon tried to haul him up.

Wesley stirred and suddenly he was pointing a gun at Willie with his free hand.

She was trying to save his wretched arse and he wanted to kill her?

He spared Simon a glance, then looked back on Willie. “You’re a traitor to Freaks, Mina.”

“You’re a traitor to mankind,” Simon said, swinging the Remington Blaster over the wall and taking aim. “Drop your peashooter into the drink, Wesley.”

“I have a better idea, Darcy.” He jerked out of Willie’s grasp and plunged, gun and all, through the dark, through the air, into a watery grave.

Willie’s heart jerked as she heard the splash. At once a raging whirlpool erupted, blasting them with icy water before fizzling into snowflakes. “Oh, God.” Willie collapsed against Simon just as Gentry reined in.

“We good here?” the cowboy asked, flicking his gaze to the air skirmish.

“Willie’s in my care, as is the compendium,” Simon said. “You see to Strangelove.”

“One way or another,” he promised. “Don’t worry about Amelia or the engine. Meet you back at the ranch, Darcys.” He tugged at the brim of his Stetson, then kicked the horse into a dead run.

Willie turned just as feathered wings appeared and the horse and rider took flight.

Simon leaned forward, squinting into the dark. “Did I just see what I thought I saw?”

“Astonishing,” Willie said, her night vision enabling her to watch as the Sky Cowboy navigated some sort of Pegasus into the ensuing sky battle.

“No wonder my sister’s smitten with the man. He owns a flying horse. Blimey.”

Emotions churning, Willie leaned into Simon. “I tried to save him. Wesley.”

“Yes, you did. We both did. He made his choice, Willie. Not you.”

“That’s just it. He was too selfish to choose death.” She glanced toward the Thames. “I’m not sure that he perished, Simon. I cannot explain, but I don’t feel as though Wesley’s gone.”

“Just as I would know if Jules was no more. I understand.” He held her close, kissed the top of her head. “If he comes back into our life, we’ll tackle that obstacle together.”

She looked up at him and forced a small, brave smile. “Everything will work out.”

“Yes, it will.” He brushed a kiss over her mouth and she felt her world settling into something good and right. “Ready to go home?” he asked.

“Not quite yet,” she said, smiling into his eyes. “I have an adventure to pen and I haven’t seen the end of the story yet.”

Huddled together against the wintry mix, they gazed up into the dazzling night as the Sky Cowboy tussled midair with the Scottish Shark of the Skies.

“I do hope Phin doesn’t steal all of Gentry’s glory,” Willie said as their friend roared by on some sort of kite flying contraption.

Simon winked down at her. “I hope he does.”