Airship Hunters (20 page)

He took a long, deep breath and focused a few moments on relaxing.

Once his mind felt a little clearer, Cabot asked aloud, “All right, Awanai showed up at three of these sites. What else do these places have in common?”

Valiantine tapped him on the arm. “Your coins. And those... beasts.”

A thief in Indiana named Awanai. Gold coins that supposedly didn’t exist and had a tendency to disappear. And murderous monster men.

The youthful features Cabot had seen on the creature in the Ohio River flashed before his mind’s eye, but he swept away the image when he pushed up from his chair.

“The coins give me an idea. I’m going downstairs to send some telegrams.”

“We’re essentially
personae non gratae
in Washington now.”

Cabot waved away the warning. “I don’t need the muscle of the federal government for these messages.”

Valiantine stood also. “All right. I’ll go buy some twine.”

When Valiantine returned, Cabot was pacing a short path, back and forth, before the map. He had an empty cup in his hand, and he gestured to a pot on a tray resting on the bedside lamp table. “Coffee’s there.” He took a spindle of twine from the lieutenant and began to mark off two routes: one starting in San Francisco, the other starting from Sacramento. When done, Cabot crossed his arms and studied the map.

“Do you suppose they were constructed in California?” he asked.

“They,” Valiantine said. “You’re sure now there are two?”

“Based on the timing and the tracks, it makes more sense.”

“Perhaps constructed there. But perhaps they just entered the country at that point,” the lieutenant said. “It would be hard to conceal a construction project of that size, I’d think.”

“Unless it were done near a boat works.” Cabot cocked his head. “Or
at
a shipyard. But if they were built elsewhere, and entered the country there—where did they come from?”

Silence.

Cabot spoke up again. “If we associate the coins with the airships, we know—or think we know—one lingered in Kansas for several weeks. And your encounter in Indiana suggests it was in that region, including Chicago and Kalamazoo, for some time.”

“Yes?”

“So there may be a base near those areas in Kansas and Indiana. Like we found outside Luray.”

“Kansas is flat as a pancake. How would you hide something like that?”

Cabot nodded. “Flat for the most part, yes, but also sparsely populated. It could be done, but you’re right. You’d have to find a very lonely spot to remain undetected.”

“Lots of timbered and remote areas in Michigan to hide in,” Valiantine said. “Or perhaps they might use an island in Lake Michigan.”

A rapid knock interrupted the two. Cabot opened the door, and a bellhop handed him two envelopes. The agent tipped the messenger and dismissed him.

He opened the first note. “Responses to some of the messages I sent. The Chief of Police in Broken Toe, Kansas, has agreed to use his position to send queries to his counterparts in other states—where the ships have been sighted—and ask if strange coins have turned up there.”

“Good idea. The other note?”

As Cabot read the second telegram, he felt a heaviness settle near his diaphragm. “Chief Taylor in Louisville. Replies the coin we left in his possession has disappeared. Replaced with a worthless slug. Just as happened to Chief Barker in Kansas.”

Valiantine made a noise. “What makes these coins so valuable?”

“Enigmas and conundrums. I gave the other two Louisville coins to Gallows. He didn’t say anything about the Kansas coin I’d already turned in. I wonder if he still has possession of any of them?”

Cabot watched a frown take over the lieutenant’s face. Then Valiantine wagged a finger at him. “You got involved when you were sent to Kansas because of the coins. Not for a ship sighting.”

“Yes.”

“Does that mean something?”

Cabot considered. “As soon as I returned to the Treasury Department, I was transferred from being simply a Treasury agent to being a Secret Service agent.”

“And we were partnered immediately after. As though a plan was already in place for our Aero-Marshal assignment—before either of us had turned in our reports.”

Cabot nodded. “It’s inconclusive—perhaps coincidental—but it looks like I was sent to investigate the coin report by Gallows while he already had knowledge about the airships.”

“And, most likely, their connection to the coins.”

“We were urged to get to work immediately.”

“And then,” Valiantine sighed, “our superiors put a sudden, inexplicable stop to our investigations. It doesn’t make sense. The logic doesn’t follow.”

The spot of heaviness Cabot had felt now burned within his chest. “From appearances—it seems we’ve been manipulated from the start.”

He saw Valiantine’s frown slowly melt. He nodded. “It looks that way. We took our assignment, followed it—”

“And we’ve been dismissed from active duty because of it. We’re being used as scapegoats.”

“Scapegoats? For what purpose?”

Cabot noticed pain in his fingers. He unclenched his fists. He began to pace before the map again. “I’m not sure. But Gallows and Wellington must know. And perhaps this Scarborough, who sent the note to us in Louisville. Do you know anything about him?”

“Nothing. I’ve not met him or heard his name other than from that telegram. And we can only suppose it was Scarborough we saw with the other two in Luray.” Valiantine scrubbed his face with his hands. “The way you’re talking—it’s as if we weren’t really sent out to investigate a mystery. As if there was already a plan in place for us, and we’ve been following it as directed by someone who knows that plan. Certainly
we
don’t know it. Is there some political agenda in place that encompasses our investigation? Something above the level of the Army and the Treasury Department? What the hell is going on?”

Cabot stopped pacing. He stared at the map and thought,
Stop thinking of these lines and pins as clues; think of them as a
plan. He heard Yankee Bligh’s voice:
Use the lumber. Build the house
. “No one is going to tell us,” Cabot said. “We’ll have to find out ourselves.”

Cabot spent the afternoon walking the city streets. He churned over and sifted through the pieces he knew about his and Valiantine’s puzzle while he kept moving from block to block. He was only half-aware of the people and businesses he passed. The questions in his mind were more real to him than his surroundings.

A fellow hailed him from outside a shop. The sign over the door read
Wright Cycle Company
. “Young man, you have a frightful expression on your face.”

Cabot realized the muscles in his face hurt. His frown was tight as a clenched fist. He paused and tried to relax.

The man continued speaking in a jovial manner: “You need some relief from your worries, so you don’t wear out that shoe leather so fast.” He gestured to one of the bicycles arranged along the wall of the building. “Pedal your way to relaxation and your destination,” he urged.

Cabot examined the machine. “No, no thank you. But you’ve given me an idea.” He continued on his way, a new bit of information added to the swirl in his brain.

Later he joined Valiantine for an evening meal.

As the lieutenant chewed, Cabot said, “Earlier, we were talking about how quickly the airship travels.”

“Yes?”

“I passed a shop for bicycles today. I wondered if there might be some way of propelling the ship besides the wind.”

Valiantine swallowed. “Such as?”

“Oh, I don’t know. But if you can push two wheels with your feet on pedals, might you not push an airship similarly?”

“With pedals?”

“As I said, I have no idea. Maybe with a paddle wheel, like a steam boat?”

Valiantine snorted. “Sounds preposterous.”

Cabot frowned. “I think
preposterous
is the common word for everything we’ve been chasing.”

Valiantine returned to his meal. Cabot tucked in as well. Between bites, he said, “I don’t think we can accomplish anything further here.”

Valiantine nodded and swallowed. “But I’m not sure what we can do anywhere else.” He ticked off points with his fingers: “We don’t have the first clue about where to search for possible bases. It seems our superiors are immersed in a plot that may well bring bad tidings our way, and their appearance in Luray suggests that may happen sooner rather than later. Further, we’ve gotten between two factions that are violently opposed to one another, and the parties from both sides are willing to do us grievous or mortal harm.”

He put down his hands and looked at Cabot. “Is there any silver lining to these clouds I’ve not enumerated?”

The younger agent dabbed at his mouth and dropped his napkin on the table. He smiled as he answered: “Yes. I’ve bought us tickets. We leave in an hour for the District of Columbia.”

It was midnight. The car rocked. Over the noise of the wheels on the rails, Cabot could hear the snoring of those other passengers who had not purchased the luxuries of a Pullman car.

Neither he nor Valiantine had yet attempted to settle down for sleep. The lieutenant’s fretting was obvious to his companion. “I still do not believe this is wise,” Valiantine said. “And I must repeat that I am very displeased you put this plan into action without first consulting me.”

Cabot nodded. “You’re right. I was very impulsive. But as you said yourself, what else could we do in Dayton? We must be bold and strike at the heart of... well, of this conspiracy. If they are handling the investigation of the airship tower in person, we may well return to Washington before they do. And we can use that to our advantage.”

The frown didn’t leave Valiantine’s face, but his words let Cabot know the lieutenant was considering them worthwhile. “I’ve been part of military campaigns that have used a—a bold strike, as you say. Doing so may well be unexpected.”

He turned to Cabot. The frown was gone, but a look of concern still marked his expression. “Cabot, we’ve been under a strain since our dismissal. And the encounters in the mountains—” He touched the spot on his head where he’d been injured. “I saw you kill that wounded monster. I’m still not sure what happened to you in Louisville. Are you all right, man? Are you up to this?”

Cabot’s head sank. He stared at the floor between his shod feet.

“In Kansas,” he said, “there were murders, as I told you. People torn apart by beasts, as we’ve encountered.”

“Yes, I know.”

“There were also disappearances.”

“Yes?”

“The children of murder victims. They have yet to be found.”

“I see.”

“I believe we found them.”

“Us?”

“I shot the beast in Louisville, and it knocked me into the river. I saw it. It was floating in the water, injured. It was massive. But its face—”

Valiantine remained silent.

“It was the face of a child. Frightened, hurt, bewildered. A boy’s face.”

“What?”

“The airships. Somehow they did it. Turned those children into beasts. Creatures that killed their own parents. Dear God, it’s horrific.”

Cabot realized he’d dug his nails into his legs. He released his grip and knitted his fingers together. “I killed that child.”

Valiantine sputtered. “It was a nightmare creature! A beast!”

“It was a child!”

Valiantine shushed him as one of the sleepers in the car stirred.

Cabot spoke more quietly. “It was a child. Turned unwillingly into a monster that killed its own blood. It was a child that was frightened and... trying to escape the monsters that made it a beast. I’m convinced of that. And I killed him.”

He looked at Valiantine. The lieutenant’s mouth opened, but he uttered no words.

Cabot continued: “I killed the one in Luray. I was utterly repulsed by what had happened to that child that once had lived in Kansas. But at that moment my mind was a whirl—whether caused by the gas in the tower, or simply by the horror I felt when I looked at the thing. It was a child, but it was a monster. I recalled the sight of the bodies we found in Louisville, and I knew what it had tried to do to us on the mountain side. Honestly, I don’t know even now if I pulled the trigger for mercy’s sake or revenge.”

He stood and went out to the platform between cars. The noise of the train’s passage washed over him. He gripped the rail. He wished for the buffeting wind, the smell of the locomotive’s smoke, and the roar of the train to dilute the turmoil wheeling through his mind.

Valiantine didn’t join him.

* * *

Cabot tipped Kentucky bourbon from a bottle into a glass and handed it to his companion. Jack Burnley had been in Gallows’ anteroom the day Cabot had left for Kansas. The round-faced and red-haired Treasury agent thanked Cabot and raised the glass to his lips while Cabot poured his own drink.