Something Strange and Deadly (19 page)

I shivered. He started to walk faster, and I scampered to keep up.

“So six years ago,” he continued, “a few thugs picked me up out of a bar and brought me to their boss's slick black carriage. A few turns around the block, and I learned exactly what this Philadelphia boss wanted. He needed an out-of-town kid to do a job for him. Someone the local coppers didn't know. Someone with the surest hands and a lotta grit. This boss said he needed me in Philadelphia, and that I was the only person to do it. I was flattered. Clay Wilcox wanted
me
to do a job.”

“Clay Wilcox?” I gripped Daniel's sleeve. “Clarence's father?”

“Yep.”

I drew back my hand and pressed it to my lips. “Keep going. Please.”

“Well, Clay Senior paid for my fare, so I hopped on the first train to Philadelphia and did some snoopin' about. I wasn't so cocky as to trust my new employer completely. But all I could discover was that he was some bigwig called a Gas Trustee. The local low-lifes referred to him and the other Trustees as the Gas Ring.

“Clay and his ring controlled just about everyone in the city, and they were riggin' the vote for upcoming city council elections. From what I gathered in saloons and on street corners, no one liked the Gas Ring's power. But the gas company controlled five thousand jobs, which meant the Ring controlled five thousand votes. And once Clay Senior and his fellow Trustees landed those council seats, they'd control almost every job in the city.

“Well, none of that business mattered to me. I If those rich men wanted votes, so be it. They were paying me a small fortune to do this special job for them.”

“And what was the job?”

Daniel scratched his jaw. “I broke into this same Nobel Company factory we're going to now. I went down to the storage warehouse, loaded up my sack, and then on my way out,
bang!
Two guards jumped me. They'd been waiting the whole time.

“We fought and I knocked one over—
hard
.” He pointed to his temple. “He hit a big rock, and well...”

I cringed and tried to keep my stomach from spinning.

Daniel looked out over the river and rubbed the nape of his neck. “I realized the guard was dead. Worst moment of my life, Empress. I was stunned and... and numb.”

He took a deep breath. “I'd seen people die, but never by my hands. I didn't realize how much... how much
weight
murder carries. On your soul. And the blood—oh God, the blood...”

He hung his head. “The other guard brought me back to my senses. He was going crazy and babblin' about the plan. He kept telling me I had ruined everything, that I was gonna pay for it when Clay found out. That was when I realized they were supposed to blow it up.”

“Blow it up?”

“Yeah. Big explosion, and I was supposed to go up with it. Then my charred body would make an easy explanation for the whole nasty situation. Soon as I figured out the plan, I skedaddled, and even though I didn't die, I was still a good scapegoat for the whole thing. Do you remember it? You'd have been young when it happened.”

“Yes. I remember the explosion—not you, though. I-I never knew about you.” I swallowed and tugged at my bare ear. Of course I remembered it. I would never forget. “My father had a dynamite shipment of his blown up that night. He was a middleman for Pennsylvania Railroad. He ran Fitt Railroad Supply. Well, the railroad needed a lot of dynamite, and Father had lined it up for them. He spent half of his company's money to buy it all. But then,
poof
.”

I mimicked an explosion with my fingers. “Without the dynamite, the railroad moved on to Father's competitors. Then no one else would hire him. Worst of all, Father was campaigning. He'd just started gathering support. He was running as a Democrat for the city council.”

“The Trustees are all Republicans.”

And that was when it all made sudden, perfect sense. Tears burned behind my eyes, and my voice shook when I spoke. “Now I understand.”

“What happened?” Daniel's tone was gentle. He slowed to a stop, and I halted beside him.

“He died. My father
died
.” I hugged my arms to my chest. “The stress and the grief. He went crazy with it, Daniel. Always talking about sabotage and his enemies. We all thought he'd lost his mind, but...”

I turned my gaze on Daniel.

“But what?” he asked.

“The thing is, Father and Clay Wilcox were friends. They worked together until Wilcox joined the Trustees. My father refused to follow. And since he was running
against
Wilcox for city council, Wilcox must have turned on him.”

Daniel whistled softly. “Clay Senior planned the whole thing just to bring down your pop?”

“I guess.” I lifted a shoulder. “What other reason could there be? Father had to pull out of the election because his company had collapsed as a result of the explosion. And since you would take the fall, there was no obvious link to Clay.”

“But I didn't die in the explosion as planned, and I wound up in prison pretty fast.” Daniel ran his tongue over his teeth. “I was gonna be hanged for that whole affair. Luckily, I managed to figure out Eastern State's locks the day before my necktie sociable.”

“But then why'd you come back if it's so dangerous for you here, Daniel? It's not even your home.”

“I work for Joseph now. I go where he needs me. Besides, I stupidly thought, with Clay Senior passed on, no one would care about me.”

“But you're an escaped convict.”

He snorted. “It's been six years, Empress. I'm grown up now, and I figured they weren't searching for me anymore. I sure didn't think the same reporter who covered my case back then would be coverin' the Dead now.”

I blinked. “Peger?”

“Exactly. It seems he recognized me from my picture. Of course, I recognized him mighty fast too, so after one encounter, I made sure our paths never crossed again. But he had picked up the scent by then. I reckon he started askin' around to see if anyone was still interested in finding me.”

“And Clarence Wilcox was.” I massaged my scalp beneath the cap. “You're a threat to his election. If people found out the truth, he might not get that council seat.”

“I doubt too many people would believe my story, Empress.”

“All the same, he must be scared. Peger told me Clarence is willing to pay a lot of money to find you.” I trudged forward, my feet dragging in the soft earth.

Just before he died, when Father's rants had been their worst, he used to shriek to Elijah, “We'll show them! You and I, son—we'll show them.” It had scared me, it had scared Elijah, and it had upset Mama too. The shouting, the stomping, the wild eyes.

“Blazes,” I said in a rough whisper. “All this time, Daniel, I thought Father meant his railroad competitors had sabotaged him. But no... he meant exactly what he said. His enemies. He wasn't crazy. He was justified.”

Daniel scooted closer to me. “And now Junior wants to court you? That's real sick.”

“Junior?” My eyes grew wide. “Clarence is called Junior?”

“He was six years ago.”

“Oh my God.” I rolled my head back and stared at the cloudy sky. Junior. Elijah's bully. It was as if the world flipped. As if I'd been holding a picture upside down, but now I'd figured out which way was up. Junior had been my brother's main tormentor—the one Elijah cursed the most.

Oh, why had Elijah never
told
me? Surely he knew the connection between the Wilcox family and our own. And why had Father never protected his son? Why had Mama and I been shielded from all the secrets?

I forced my thoughts aside—now was not the time worry over Clarence's lies.

The fence that spanned the factory came into our view. High and long, it stretched off into the night's darkness and hid the river. The road continued beside it and out of sight. Though this branch of Alfred Nobel & Co. was considered tiny, it still spanned several acres along the gentle riverbank.

Over the wind and insect chorus, I heard the rhythmic beat of horses.

“Listen,” I said. “What is that?”

The ground began to vibrate. Then came the clamor of wild laughter and shouting—not the usual sounds accompanying late-night travelers. I glanced down the road. I could make out the dust rising in the distance.

“Road agents,” Daniel hissed. “What the devil are bandits like that doing so close to the city?” His head spun about. “There's not a place to hide anywhere around here. Come on.” He grabbed my hand and heaved me into a sprint.

We dashed alongside the river, speeding over the soft riverbank until we reached the factory's fence and raced beside it. By the time Daniel slowed, I had to gasp for breath and muffle the noise in my sleeve. I squinted and saw the faint shape of a door.

“New plans,” he said. “I don't know what those bandits are looking for, but a pretty girl is not the sort of thing to leave out for 'em.” He tossed the empty sacks at me and slid a leather wallet from his pocket. It unfurled to show gleaming metal wires and keys. He chose two pins and shoved the wallet into my hands.

“I also don't know how long we've got before the next guard rounds that corner.” His pins scratched in a lock.

“To pile on the agony,” he continued, “I don't know how many guards are on the inside, but I think our chances are better in there. Normally, the guards don't carry firearms 'cause of the explosives. But I
know
those bandits have pistols or some kind of barking iron.”

The lock clicked, and he exhaled sharply. With aching slowness, he pushed the door inward and peeked inside. Then he reached back and yanked me with him through the fence door.

Before us, a grassy hill sloped gently down to the Schuylkill River. Three long, low structures stood on the bank, a hundred feet between each. Daniel pointed left, and we crept along the fence until we reached a line of covered wagons. We ducked behind the first.

He grabbed the sacks from me. “I'll break into the warehouse, and you'll sit here,” he whispered. “First I gotta wait until the guard down there”—he brandished his thumb toward the nearest building—“makes his round. Or...” He trailed off, his mouth parted.

The hoofbeats were loud now. Hooting and laughter rang out. The road agents were almost to the factory fence. Daniel crawled to the edge of the wagon and peered down the hill.

“Perfect. The guards are all leaving their posts.” He pointed, and I followed his finger. Sure enough, four men in scarlet uniforms were jogging to the middle hut. They converged for a few seconds, and then they all hiked up the slope toward the fence. It was then that I noticed an enormous gate in the fence. It was beside the door Daniel and I had just sneaked through, and the guards were headed straight for it.

Daniel scuttled back. “Well that's a stroke of luck.”

“What?” I strained to see him in the darkness. He was fiddling with his leather wallet, flipping it open and shut, open and shut. The noise of the road agents was outside the fence now, passing by at a slow meander. They were anything but quiet, and it sounded as if there were at least ten of them—maybe more.

“I'd warrant the guards and those agents have a deal going down tonight. This factory is rotten to the core.” Daniel's teeth gleamed in a shadowy grin. “Now, listen, I'm gonna slip down while everyone's distracted. You just sit here, all right?”

“But if they're distracted, I can go with you. Two people can carry more than one.”

He didn't answer. The heavy creak of enormous hinges snaked through the racket of the bandits. The guards were opening the gate.

“Just stay here.” Daniel lurched out from beneath the wagon, shot a glance up to the gate, and then launched off down the grassy slope.

Blasted boy. I scuttled to the edge of the wagon, hoping to spy on the guards, but my foot kicked something in the dirt.

I knelt and picked up Daniel's leather wallet. It was the one with all his lock picks. Did he need this? If so, there wasn't enough time for him to run all the way up the hill and then down again.

Drat, drat, drat, what should I do?

I spared a glance for the guards. I couldn't see them, but raucous laughter drifted through the air. Meanwhile, Daniel was huddled at the nearest hut's door. Wouldn't he have broken in by now if he had the tools he needed?

I sucked in a breath—I had to risk it—and then launched into a run.

C
HAPTER
N
INETEEN

T
his must be how mice feel when they run from
the hawk. The emptiness of the factory grounds and the open gate spurred me on. I had chosen this path, and now all I could do was follow it. Thank heavens the grass was still damp and soft from yesterday's rain; it soaked up the pounding of my feet.

Though not enough that Daniel didn't hear me. He whirled around, his fists up, but at the sight of me, he blanched.

“Empress, I told you to stay,” he hissed. His head twisted toward the gate.

“Your tools.” I held up the wallet. “I thought you needed them.”

He snatched it from my hand. “Sake's alive... I thought I'd dropped that in the field somewhere and the guards would find it.” He gazed at me. “Thanks—though it was still mighty stupid.”

After several long moments of metal scratching on metal, he rolled his heel against the door and it inched open. Then his hand snaked out and he hauled me to him. We wedged through the narrow space of black, and then he eased the door shut.

“I told you to obey my orders,” he murmured.

“I'm sorry.” I strained to see in the total darkness of the hut. “You should be grateful, though.”

“I am... honest, I am. Now shut pan, Empress.”

A yellow glow appeared, faintly illuminating Daniel and the immediate surroundings. I gaped at the light and waited for my eyes to adjust.

The light came from a jar in Daniel's hand, and whatever emitted the glow resembled a squirming mass of something alive. “Is that light moving?”

“Yeah. Glowworms. Can't risk fire near the dynamite.”

It was so clever, so
typically
clever of Daniel.

His rough hand slid into mine. “Come on,” he murmured. “Don't touch anything, and I'll find what we need. Looks like they rebuilt the warehouse exactly the same.”

We moved away from the door. I focused my attention on the ball of light and on my steady footsteps over the earth floor. Around me, I had the sensation of open space.

I leaned close to Daniel's ear as we walked. “What's in here?”

“Tables. It's where they put the dynamite ingredients into cartridges. We're going to the end where they load the finished stuff onto riverboats—that's where any complete dynamite will be.”

“What's in the other two huts then?”

“The middle hut is where they make an absorbent that soaks up the nitroglycerin. And then in the last building they make the nitroglycerin. That's what causes the dynamite to explode.” He lifted his arms and spread them wide. My arm rose with his, our fingers still clasped, and the light of the glowworms beamed around the room.

“They brew it in huge vats,” he said. “All it takes is a teaspoon of the stuff to blow you to pieces, and there's hundreds of gallons in that building. The vats keep the nitroglycerin cool, so it doesn't explode. The safety of everything and everyone in that building depends on a thermometer. Seventy-two degrees. Nitroglycerin's gotta stay at that temperature.”

The echo of our steps died, and we stopped our slow creep through the room. I realized we had reached the end of the building. Daniel raised the jar of glowworms and scanned the area.

“There.” He pointed to a waist-high crate. The yellow light showed a label.

STUMP

“What is it?” I asked.

“It's dynamite for clearing farmland.” He set the jar in my hand and tossed the empty sacks beside the box. “And it'll do perfectly. We need a hammer or—”

“A crowbar?” I gestured to a metal rod set next to the crates.

“Yep. Help me get this open.”

Soon, after many smothered grunts and much creaking wood, we had the crate's top off. Inside, wrapped carefully in straw, was stick upon stick of explosive dynamite. They were small cylinders, no longer than my hand. How could so much power fit into something so tiny? It reminded me of Jie.

“You hold the bag open.” Daniel pushed a sack into my hands. “I'll put this stuff inside.”

“How much are we taking?”

“As much as we can carry.”

The minutes passed in silent packing until the bags were full. Each sack held twenty sticks of dynamite packed securely in paper and straw. We knelt to heft the lid back on the crate.

Daniel suddenly froze midway. “D'you hear that?” he whispered.

I held my breath and listened.

Then came a shout. Unmistakable. It was a man's cry of alarm, and he was outside the building.

“Shit. You left footprints, didn't you? Shit, shit.” Daniel heaved the bags on top of the crates and shoved me into a narrow crevice between the boxes. “Shit, shit, shit, Empress.”

My heart began to beat frantically in my ears. “What's going on?”

“Shh.” He set the jar of glowworms into my hand. “Joseph was right to say I might need you. I do. You gotta get the bags, or at least one of 'em, back to the Exhibition. I'll distract the guards. If you can't get to the fence door, wade in the river.” He backed away from the faint light until he was part of the darkness. “I'm sorry, Eleanor. I promise I'll keep you safe.”

His footsteps thumped loudly away, as if he wanted to make as much noise as he could. I slid the jar of glowworms inside my shirt.

It was all too fast for me to understand. What was Daniel doing? Was he turning himself in?

Over my wild pulse, I barely heard the hut's door swing open. There was a slapping thud like flesh hitting flesh. Then came shouts, feet scuffling on the dirt floor, grunts, more thuds, and finally calm. I cowered in my corner, my breathing so shallow and my heart racing so fast I thought I might pass out. I kept my shirtsleeve over my mouth to muffle the whimpers that threatened to escape.

“He broke my nose!” yelled a whiny voice.

“Shut pan and get him outside,” rumbled another voice.

“I ain't going nowhere—” Daniel's words were cut off by crunching bone and a desperate howl. He was hurt.

A cry writhed in my throat, but I bit my tongue until the pain filled my brain.

“You're in for it now,” said the whiny man. “I reckon you saw somethin' you shouldn't have seen, and we can't have you tellin' no one. So dead meat for you.”

There was the scraping sound of a body being dragged along packed dirt. Then the door slammed shut, and no more sounds seeped into my ears.

My hands trembled uncontrollably as I eased the jar of glowworms out from my shirt. My lungs worked overtime, sucking in and shooting out air. It was a strange feeling that coursed through my whole body. Intense heat, intense cold. Up and down, as if my body didn't know what season it was.

For a moment the world around me vanished. I only heard my heart and my breath. I only saw the jittery glowworms. Then the world resumed, and I latched on to reality before insanity could paralyze me anymore.

I did as Daniel had ordered, and I hoisted a sack on my back. I tried for the second, but it was too much. Twenty sticks would have to do.

I crept through the hut. My toes were numb from the pinching boots, and one of the blisters had popped and now burned.

Once at the door, I pressed my ear to it and strove to catch any movement or sound. Nothing came but the faintest patter of rain.

I could do this. Daniel needed me. The Spirit-Hunters needed me.

Cracking the door, I peeked outside. No one! So I ran silently, through the rain and up the hill. I didn't pause, look, or think. I just ran.

When I reached the wagons, I skidded behind and peered out at the three buildings on the river. Where would the guards be? Was Daniel still alive?

I couldn't leave him. Yes, it was my job to get the dynamite to Joseph, but it was also my fault Daniel had been caught. I was the only person who could save him, and he would die if I left him here.

In the space of a breath I made a decision. I did not consider it as carefully as I should have—I didn't consider it at all, really. I was giddy with a sense of invincibility. It ran through my arms and legs.

This is a dangerous place. A dangerous place means an alarm. An alarm is something I can sound. An alarm will draw the guards away.

I hid the sack and glowworms beneath one of the wagons and then watched the huts. No one appeared. With a deep breath and a silent prayer, I raced back down the slope. I went to the middle hut, but the door was locked. The rain picked up speed and intensity, and as I scooted along the outside wall, it filled my ears and sank into my clothes. It also masked the sound of my footsteps, and this time I was careful not to leave tracks.

At the back of the building I tipped my head around the corner. Nothing. I bolted to the next hut. The closer I got, the more a caustic reek burned in my nose. Hadn't Daniel said this was the nitroglycerin hut? A pipe the width of a man and at least twenty feet long spanned from the hut to the river, and I knelt beside it.

For several seconds I waited, allowing my ears to adjust to the raindrops on the river and my nose to accept the sharp nitroglycerin scent. There had to be an alarm in this building—anything as explosive as Daniel had described would have some warning system.

A door groaned nearby, and I slung myself beneath the pipe.

Please don't let anyone look my way.

Three sets of red feet with a fourth set—brown and stumbling—passed by me. I bit my tongue and fought to keep my breathing under control.

“In the river,” said the whiny man. His voice was muted, and I risked a glance out. The man had a rag pressed to his nose. Daniel must have gotten in a good punch.

“Come on then,” said a gruff voice. “Don't make us club ya first. Drowning is so much more fun ta watch.”

Drowning? I had to act now.

I rolled out from under the pipe and darted toward the door—or at least where I had heard the groaning sound of a door. It was at the center of the building, and once I reached it, I gave a quick look—the men hadn't seen me—before pushing inside.

My hands shook as I moved within, but I kept them aloft and defensive. The room was longer than sixty feet in either direction and lined with chest-high vats. It was like the Centennial Brewery; but rather than the yeasty, sweet scent of beer, my nostrils were overwhelmed with the burn of acid.

My breathing seemed loud and harsh, and the single light that hung in the center of the room hurt my eyes. But I prowled onward, seeing no one and hearing nothing but the gentle whir of pumps. My eyes watered from the sting of nitroglycerin, and I pulled my shirt collar up over my nose. A glance at the door for guards showed it was still shut. That was when I glimpsed the alarm.

It was a large bell with a handle for turning, like any fire alarm. It hung over the door, and it was too high up for me. Blast it!

I sniffed and wiped my eyes. A stool was beside the nearest vat, so I scooted to it. It was heavy, meant to stay in one place, and as I lugged it backward, it scratched and moaned across the ground.

Until my back hit something. I whirled around to find the glowing scarlet of a guard. The door was wide-open, and a shadowy face leered down at me. Before I could react, he grabbed me by the collar and shouted, “There's another.”

The man hauled me from the building to the river with no effort.

“Look! It's a girl.” He snatched the cap off my head and then kicked me toward the other men. I tumbled to the muddy ground.

I dragged my eyes to Daniel. His hands were bound, and a gag was stuffed in his mouth. Though one of his eyes was almost swollen shut, hurt and fury still burned bright in his gaze.

The gruff man yanked me back to my feet, and the guard with the rag against his nose sauntered toward me.

“You're a bit fleshy, ain't ya?” He licked his lips. “That's good. I like 'em fleshy.” He thrust at me. I flinched, and the three guards guffawed.

“Well,” the whiny one continued, tossing his bloody rag aside. “Fleshy or not, a knife will go in ya all the same.” He leaned close to me. The bones of his face were sharp, half his teeth were missing, and he had the sallow skin of a consumptive. “Got any weapons, darlin'?”

“No—yes.” I swallowed, desperately trying to wet my mouth. “I do have a weapon. A knife.”

“Where?”

“In my boot,” I said.

The man knelt, and as soon as his knees hit the earth, I moved. I heaved my left leg backward at the knee of the man behind me. My foot connected with the edge of the kneecap. His leg rotated and crunched inward. I pushed my hips against him, and he fell back.

With my right leg I jerked my knee against the kneeling guard's face and cracked his nose.

It all happened so fast—too fast for the third guard to react. I wormed away and barreled to the nitroglycerin hut.

The nitroglycerin has to stay at seventy-two degrees, and that means it needs a cooling system. If I can change the temperature, the guards will have something else to worry about.

I went to the first vat in the building. There was a thermometer with a knob marked

DO NOT ADJUST.

Footsteps beat nearby. My time was up. This knob had to be it. With all my force, I turned it. It broke off in my hand. I had expected resistance—not for the damned thing to break!

“She's turned off the water!”

I jerked around and found two guards, eyes enormous in the dim light.

We all reacted at once.

I dropped the broken knob and scrambled from the vat. The two men bolted for the hut's door. I dashed after them, away from the cloying stench and the now-broken knob. We skidded into the rainy night.

The guards roared a warning down to the riverside—“It's gonna blow! Run!”—before fleeing toward the distant gate. Their red uniforms glowed in the drizzly darkness.