Clementine (The Clockwork Century #1.1)
Page 23“That’s true,” she said from her seat. “And I’ll be damned if I even know what the cargo is.”
Hainey’s bright white grin spread so far that the scar on his cheek crinkled up to his ear. “It’s a diamond.”
“A diamond?” Maria exclaimed. “All this trouble for a diamond?”
The captain said, “Not just any diamond. An orange diamond the size of a plum. The man who cut the thing called it the ‘clementine,’ so I guess the boys who stole our ship thought they were being funny when they renamed her.”
“I’ve never even heard of a diamond that big. And why do you know this?”
“I’ve got a friend back west, a fellow captain and a man of fine character. When the Free Crow was first boosted out from under us, this friend helped us try to retrieve her.”
“That’s a good friend indeed,” Maria said.
Hainey agreed. “I owe him one. Or two, or ten. And now I owe him double. Down in Tacoma he found a fellow to tell him what my ship is carrying. He sent a telegram to fill me in. That’s how I know about the diamond. And now I know why my ship was stolen.”
“To transport a diamond?”
“To transport a diamond and a two-thousand-pound corpse. There’s an old story that floated around for years, and everyone always thought it was a tall tale—even though every man who ever repeated it swore it was the truth.” As he spoke, Hainey gave the throttle a deeper nudge, urging the ship faster, farther, towards the transient docks.
He continued, “There was a certain lady of…leisure. Her name was Conklin, but everyone called her ‘Damnable.’ She was the richest woman west of the Mississippi and maybe east of it too, for all anybody knows. She had plenty of money, at any rate, and she spent a great wad of it on a diamond found a hundred years ago in India. She wore it set in a necklace, almost all the time.”
Lamar piped up. “I heard she shot a dozen men who tried to steal it from her, and one woman too.”
The captain said, “It’s possible. She was a real piece of work, and when she died, she took the diamond with her. The funeral man dressed her in her finest, hung the diamond around her neck, and filled her coffin with every drop of cement it would hold—just like she asked him to. Then the gravedigger made a hole twice as big as he needed, and once the coffin was lowered down inside, they filled up the hole with cement too, in order to keep out anybody who wanted what she was wearing.”
“Not until my Free Crow was stolen. Not another ship west of the river could’ve lifted her up, carried her over the mountains, and gotten her into bluegrass country—”
Maria said, “No ship except for yours? She must be nearly as powerful as this one, then.”
“Nearly,” he said. “But not quite, and this one wasn’t anywhere handy—so some bastard Union man paid a bastard pirate named Felton Brink to steal my Free Crow, dig up old Madam Damnable, and tote her to Kentucky.”
“But I still don’t understand,” Maria insisted, “what a scientist needs with a diamond.”
Hainey held up one finger. “I have a theory about it, and I’ll explain it to you just as soon as we address what’s…” he sagged. “What’s not right over there, at those transient docks. Do you see them?”
She craned her neck to see out the windshield, and then said, “Yes, I see them. I’ve never seen a set of transient docks before.”
“Don’t know nothing about dirigibles, don’t know nothing about docks. Where you been all your life?” Simeon asked.
“East, mostly. The docks there are all pretty permanent, and the war doesn’t allow for much passenger activity. Mostly I’ve been moving around by train, coach, and carriage. But it’s quite a crash course I’ve gotten lately.”
Lamar said, “And she knew about the ball turret gun; she knew how to use it.”
The captain explained before Maria could do so. “It’s just a modified land model. I expect she’s seen them in combat.”
“You are correct,” she told him. “And I could become accustomed to this flying business. It’s all rather exciting.”
“It’d be more exciting if the Free Crow was still docked there,” Hainey very nearly sulked.
Maria asked, “Are there any other transient docks, anywhere around the city? I’m sorry, I wish I could’ve been more specific. But I didn’t know the information would prove valuable, and I didn’t press for details.”
Lamar asked, “So what do we do, then?”
The captain took a deep sigh and straightened his shoulders. He turned his head to give Maria a look that was half promise, and half a nod of conspiracy. “Top speed, as fast as this thing will carry us. We make for Louisville.”
The trip was long and the terrain below was an uninspiring rollick of river and hills, and trees peeled bare by the season. Maria gazed out the window and sometimes wondered why no one was following them; and then she’d remember the flaming dirigibles sweeping in their spinning, pendulum-swinging arcs down to make craters in the grasslands of Kansas, and she didn’t wonder anymore.
From her seat by the right glass ball turret, Maria Boyd declared, “Captain, you said you had a theory about why a scientist would need a diamond, but you haven’t yet explained yourself.”
“Begging your pardon, ma’am,” he said, and he didn’t completely sound like he was poking fun at her when he called her “ma’am.” “There’s this fellow back west, name of Minnericht—or, come to think of it, there used to be a fellow named Minnericht. I understand he’s dead now, but that’s a recent development, so you’ll have to pardon me if I misspeak. This Minnericht was an inventor, and he liked to play with weapons. Not long before he shuffled off this mortal coil, he’d been working on a weapon that…it’s hard to describe. It cuts things, or burns them, but it uses light.”
Maria considered this, nodded, and asked, “Like the way a magnifying glass can start a fire?”
“Like that. Only imagine using something much, much stronger than a little piece of curved glass to focus the sunlight.”
“I see what you’re getting at,” she said. “And if you can use a much more concentrated light, with a much stronger focus than glass, you might…well. You might make something terrible.”
Simeon said, “And if it was terrible, you could bet old Minnericht had his fingers in it.”
Lamar murmured, “Truer words were never spoken,” and he fiddled with a lever that would adjust the hydrogen flow to the compression engine. “But he wasn’t a dummy.”
“Hell no, he wasn’t,” the captain agreed. “He was a damn-ed smart son of a gun, but meaner than the good Lord ought to make them. But I tell you that to tell you this: He made a weapon called a solar cannon, and like I heard it, he sold a patent on it to somebody back east. And that was the last I heard of it, except he had a couple early models hanging around inside Seattle. He used to like to sit on the roof of the train station, up in the clock tower, and use it to burn up the rotters like ants on a hill when the weather was clear enough to make it happen.”
“Now I’m afraid you’ve lost me,” Maria said.
Hainey looked like he was trying to figure out how best to tell her something else, or something bigger; but in the end he cocked his head quickly, like he was shooing a fly, and said, “It’s a longer story that you’d care to hear, I bet. Anyway, the one big drawback to his solar cannon was that it needed the sun, and it needed a lot of it—and up in the northwest, there’s not much sun to go around.”
The captain continued, “But back east, where there’s more light, maybe his machine would work better, or be more popular with folks who could use it in a bigger way.”
“Folks like the Union army,” Maria finished for him. “Folks like a man called Ossian Steen.”
Hainey looked over his shoulder and asked, “You know about Steen?”
“Not much.”
“Us either,” Lamar said. “But I wouldn’t mind having a word with him. I’m sure he’s a bastard, but he must be one devil of a scientist.”
“When we get to Louisville, if we can find him, you can ask him anything you want,” Hainey said. “If I don’t feel the need to kill him first.”
Maria asked, “You have a gripe with this Steen?”
“I assume he’s the man who paid Felton Brink to steal my ship,” Hainey said grimly, and with a stormy grumble of intent. “But I might give him a minute to explain himself, just in case I’m wrong.”
“That’s big of you,” Maria said dryly.
“I’m glad you approve,” he responded with equal lack of humidity. “Now if we can only find this place, perhaps we can ask him in person.”
But no one knew which sanatorium was being used for the nefarious Ossian Steen’s frightening plans, and no one even knew where to begin looking—until Maria proposed they stop by the city hospital and ask about another facility. Perhaps they shared doctors, nurses, or other staff. But this plan was whittled into impracticality by inconvenient facts.
The Valkyrie was too notorious to park at the service yard docks down by the river, and it was too large to simply hide behind a warehouse. Furthermore, it was too dangerous-looking by design for the crew to simply strip off a few guns, dab a new name on the side, and call it something innocuous.