Chronica (24 page)

"Presumably from the same source who told him Edison has the
Chronica
in the first place," Sierra replied, "though there are no guarantees that Edison didn't move it."

"And you're still sure you want to accompany Heron's legionaries on this – or whatever they're called back here?" Max asked.

Sierra called Bertram, and asked him to give Heron the message that she and Max wanted to come along on the raid.

***

The raid was set for two evenings later. Heron got word of that to Sierra through Bertram and told them where they should meet. "At the Weehawken Ferry on 42
^nd
Street by the Hudson," Bertram repeated Heron's message, "and you will be going across the river with two of his men, and then on to Edison's offices in West Orange."

"He's still not telling us exactly where he expects to find the
Chronica
," Max noted.

"Either he doesn't know that exactly, or he doesn't trust us enough to tell us," Sierra said. "Likely both."

"Should we let Astor know about this?" Max asked.

"I don't know," Sierra said. "I trust him well enough, but bringing him along would alert Heron to how closely Astor has been working with us, if Heron didn't know already. And Heron could call off the raid, for whatever reason, if we showed up with Astor unannounced."

***

Max knew both of Heron's men, standing by the ferry the night after next. Sierra knew one of them. Both men introduced themselves anyway.

"James Flannery," Flannery said. Max shook his hand, and noticed that Flannery winced slightly.

"Oliver Woodruff," the other man said, and didn't wince at all when Max shook his extended hand.

Both men nodded courteously to Sierra.
 

"Come with us, please," Woodruff said, as he and Flannery boarded the ferry.

Sierra and Max followed. The four were apparently the only passengers. Sierra and Max couldn't see the crew.
 

The Hudson was choppy. The wind was cold for this May evening. Sierra and Max were thinking that, in the future, this trip to New Jersey would be via the Lincoln Tunnel, renamed the Giuliani Tunnel. They also might have thought that this ferry was more fun, but couldn't let themselves think that anything about this evening would be the slightest fun.

[Weehawken, New Jersey, May, 1899 AD]

The ferry docked at the Weehawken Terminal in New Jersey. A shiny new motor car was waiting for them. It gleamed in the moonlight. The driver – about 20, with goggles, and sportily dressed – got out of the car.
 

"My name's Johnson," he said with a big grin, "and here's your four-seater as requested.   She's a Stoewer Phaeton, a German beauty."  He patted the car.   Woodruff paid him and sat in the driver's seat.   Flannery ushered Sierra into the seat next to Woodruff, and sat with Max in the back.

"This drive should take about two hours," Flannery informed them. "Sit back and relax. The ferry will be waiting for us here when we return – it was chartered by our mutual benefactor."

Even though Flannery was not shouting at any one now, he sounded just as early 21
^st
century to Max and Sierra as he had when he lost his temper with Astor at the hospital. They weren't so sure about Woodruff. They knew both were police, but assumed they were doing this off-the-record for Heron. Sierra and Max also assumed both men had weapons.
 

"Ready?" Johnson asked, leaning over the hand crank outside the car.

"Let's go," Flannery said.

Johnson nodded and started turning the crank. It made loud, sharp, slow noises, like a whip cracking. Sierra and Max had been around enough motor cars back here to know the sound wasn't good.

Johnson stopped and stood.

"What's wrong?" Flannery asked.

"I don't know," Johnson replied. "It worked fine the last time I started it, which was just a little while ago, to drive here."

"Try again," Flannery barked.

Johnson complied, and got the same result. "This happens sometimes," he now offered. "That's why some people say, 'get a horse'!" He laughed.

Flannery looked like he would shoot him if he could. "Get this piece of crap out of here," he said to Johnson about the car. "And give that man back every cent that he paid you," he pointed to Woodruff.

***

There was a livery stable about a block away from where they were standing, with at least half a dozen horse-drawn carriages of various sorts and sizes in front. "We should have done this in the first place," Flannery grumbled, as the four walked to the livery. "Horses are still more reliable at this point in time—" he stopped talking, and looked, Sierra thought, as if he thought he better not talk about points in time with who knew who was listening.

"That four-in-hand looks good," Woodruff said, and gestured to a carriage that was as sleek as the motor car, drawn by four horses. "I can drive it. Should get us there in half the time."

"Good. Go pay for it – rent it for the night," Flannery said.

Woodruff nodded and went inside the livery.

"My problem is I have my head too much in the future," Flannery said to Max and Sierra, "as I'm sure the two of you can understand."

***

Woodruff was as good as his word. "The best speed the motor car could have made is seven or eight miles per hour," he said to his three passengers over his shoulder, as he coaxed the horses on the dirt road to West Orange. "We're going at least twice as fast."

"Good work," Flannery said. He turned to Max and Sierra, and spoke in a lower voice. "Have either of you met Mr. Edison? If you had, that could provide a few moments of maneuverability if we run into him – you can come up with some reason about why we're here."

"No," Sierra said. "Neither of us has met him. I assume the same for you and Detective Woodruff?"

"Yeah," Flannery said.

"What do you intend to do with the
Chronica
, if we can get our hands on it?" Max asked, "as long as we're talking about more than the speed of horse travel now."

"Just what would have happened to it had Ms. Waters not intervened," Flannery replied. "Burn it, as per our friend's instructions."

Sierra nodded. "You know it may not be the only copy of the
Chronica
," she observed.

"Not our problem tonight," Flannery replied.

[West Orange, New Jersey, May, 1899 AD]

Woodruff pulled the coach up to a stop, about half a block from the Black Maria, which could be seen clearly in the moonlight.

"Let's walk the rest of the way," Flannery said. "There should be a night watchman around somewhere, but he's now in our employ."

Woodruff tied the horses as securely as he could to a hitching post. "We can't leave them here like this too long."

"Let's hope we won't have to," Flannery replied. "See, that's why I wanted the motor car in the first place," he said, mainly to Sierra and Max. "I wasn't completely wrong about that."

They approached the Black Maria. It looked like a barn, Sierra thought. There were no windows on the side she was looking at. She felt a pang. She and Max had both been historians of media, as graduate students, before they had been drawn into all of this. That part of her was still inside, underneath it all, and it was thrilled to actually be walking up to this studio, which she had read and seen so much about, almost 150 years in the future. She was sure Max felt the same way.

They reached the night watchman, who extended his hands. "The door is open," he said. "Tie me up and rough me up a little, so I'll be able to keep my job." He grinned at Sierra. "I'm being so well paid for this, I may not need this job any more. I'll be sure to look you up, dearie!"

Woodruff smacked him twice in the face. "That should leave enough of a mark," Woodruff said, and began to tie the night watchman's hands behind his back.

"We'll put in an anonymous call to the local police after we're gone that the Black Maria was broken into," Flannery said to the watchman. "Shouldn't take too long. They'll untie you when they get here." He patted the man on the head and punched him in the face again. "Just for good measure."

"All done," Woodruff said, smiled at the man, and refrained from punching him yet again.

The four walked carefully to the Black Maria. "I don't like people who sell out their own employers," Flannery said about the night watchman.

"Are we sure Edison's not inside there, right now?" Sierra asked. "He's famous for regarding sleep as a waste of time, and supposedly sleeps only three or fours every night."

"He also takes naps," Flannery said. "But we have another man on the case, outside of Edison's home right now. Edison's had a cold for the past few days, and is resting it out at home now. That was one of the reasons this night was chosen for our little visit. If Edison stirs, our man will rush right over here and alert us."

Max controlled himself from asking,
will you punch him in the face, too
? And instead asked, "can you tell us where the
Chronica
is now?"

"In the office," Flannery said, and pointed to a side of the building that had a separate entrance.

"You think he would leave something as valuable as that in his office, and not in a vault somewhere?" Max asked.

Flannery shrugged. "That is what we have been told – that this book is in his office. We'll find out soon enough if it is."

Woodruff added, "I'd certainly put it in a strong room in a bank somewhere, but I'm not Thomas Edison. And, from what I hear, he does everything his own way."

Flannery and Woodruff started towards the office door. Sierra and Max looked at each other, and followed.

***

The door to the office was unlocked, as promised. Flannery and Woodruff entered first and turned on several electric light bulbs. Flannery beckoned Sierra and Max to enter. "The
Chronica
was last spotted on that desk," Flannery pointed to the cubbyhole desk, stuffed in all parts with papers. "You two are the experts – see if you can find it."

Sierra and Max walked to the desk. "There are hundreds of scripts here," Max said and named some of the manuscripts he saw, "
The Magician
,
Love by the Light of the Moon,
Another Job for the Undertaker
—"

"Ok," Flannery interrupted, "spare me the recital. The
Chronica
is supposed to be in Greek – you should be able to see it quickly enough with all of those titles in English."

Sierra pulled up a chair, as did Max. "This is going to take some time," she said.

"Stop talking and start looking," Flannery said. "I'll stand here by the door and make sure we get no intruders."

***

Sierra and Max finished almost an hour later, chided by Flannery for taking so long, but careful to put every manuscript and piece of paper back in its place, so Edison would not immediately see that his desk had been ransacked.

"It's not here," Sierra said, and smacked her hand on the desk in frustration.

Flannery had seen that coming, as the minutes went by and Sierra and Max had found nothing. Woodruff had gone and returned from checking on the horses, and had also looked around the rest of the office and found nothing written in any language other than English.

Max and Sierra expected an outburst from Flannery, maybe even a threat of violence, but he was calm. He cursed softly and told Woodruff to take a quick look at the desk himself.

"Well, what might this be?" Woodruff announced about 15 minutes later, and held up a manuscript. "Sure looks like Greek to me."

Sierra came back to the desk.

"We must have missed that," Max said. "You sure it's the
Chronica
and not a script for a movie about making souvlaki?"

"Yes, I'm sure," Woodruff replied. "I studied ancient Greek and Latin in high school as well as college. It says '
Chronica
' right here on the front page."

Sierra and Max had decided beforehand that if they found the
Chronica
on Edison's premises they would not let Heron's men know. That would keep it out of Heron's hands, and give themselves the option of deciding what to do about Edison's possession of it later.

"I tell ya," Flannery said with a grin, "this end of the 19
^th
century has one hell of an educational system."

***

Sierra and Max said nothing as they walked back to the four-in-hand with Flannery, Woodruff, and the
Chronica
. Nothing was said to them, but they felt like prisoners.

"What are you going to with it?" Max finally asked.

"Burn it, like I told you, when we get back to New York," Flannery answered.

"What are you going to do with us?" Sierra asked.

"Nothing," Flannery replied. "I'm a police lieutenant not your father. I'm not going to punish you for your stupidity – by which I mean, I know you were deceitful in there, not stupid, but being deceitful in these circumstances was a very stupid thing."

Woodruff was half leafing through the
Chronica
as they were walking.

"Anything interesting in there?" Flannery asked.

Woodruff laughed sarcastically. "And I'm a police detective not your inventor. None of this makes a whit of sense to me."

They reached the horses and the carriage. Woodruff gave Flannery the
Chronica
, hitched up the horses, and took the reigns.

Flannery sat opposite Max and Sierra in the coach. "Don't look so crestfallen," he said to them. "You're not the first to underestimate the New York City police, and you won't be the last."

[Weehawken, New Jersey, May, 1899 AD]

The trip back to Weehawken, less than an hour, passed mostly in uneasy silence.

"Can I see that?" Sierra asked about the
Chronica
, on Flannery's lap, at one point.

"No," Flannery answered.

"You know, that's not the way it was originally written," Sierra said. "It was on a scroll, which took up much less space when wrapped. In some ways, we've lost not gained ground since the ancient world."

"Save your history lesson for your students," Flannery said. "I expect that's what the two of you will be doing now, when you're back home, whenever that is, now that this business has been concluded?"