Benjamin Franklinstein Meets the Fright Brothers (11 page)

“To who?” asked Scott.

Victor shrugged. “I don't know. Maybe the cook. We could tell him we're here to meet someone.”

“Good luck!” Scott laughed. “He doesn't speak English, except for the stuff on the menu.”

“Do you recognize anyone else?” asked Franklin.

“Not really,” said Scott. “I'm not usually here this early. It's a different crowd.”

“Maybe we should just—”

“Shove over,” said a voice. “Act like you know me.”

Victor looked up. Standing above him was a tall, thin girl about his age, dressed entirely in black. She wore a hooded sweatshirt and peered at them over a pair of dark sunglasses.

“Are you deaf? I said move over.”

Victor slid to his left, and the girl sat down next to him.

“He may be watching us, so we don't have a lot of time. Dr. Franklin, it's an honor to meet you. I'm Jaime Winters.”

Franklin held out his hand. “The honor is mine, young lady. Are you, by chance, a Custodian?”

“My parents are . . . I mean, were,” said Jaime. “And it's probably best if we don't say that word too loudly. He might be listening.”

“Who might be listening?” Scott asked.

Jaime glared at him. “Who are you, exactly?”

“My name's Scott.” He pointed at the picture above him. “That's my dad.”

“Look,” said Jaime, “I don't think you boys understand what's going on here, so I'll try to make it as simple as possible. I have business with Dr. Franklin, and it's not really kid stuff. Maybe it's best if you just run along.”

Victor bristled. “And how old are
you
?”

“I assure you, Miss Winters,” offered Franklin, “these gentlemen have my complete confidence.”

Jaime looked at Victor and Scott with contempt. “As you wish, Dr. Franklin.”

“Please, call me Ben.”

“All right, Ben.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Something bad is going down, and we don't have much time. The Modern Order of Prometheus is in trouble, and Custodians are disappearing. We suspect that a few of them, like your own Custodian, Mr. Mercer, may have been murdered.”

“Mr. Mercer was our downstairs neighbor,” said Victor. “He wasn't murdered. He died of a heart attack.”

Jaime rolled her eyes. “Did you do an autopsy? I didn't think so. Now, listen carefully. There are only a few of us left, and every time we speak on the electrophone or go out in public, we put ourselves at risk. I'm in great danger right now. Don't make me repeat myself.”

“Sorry,” said Victor.

“You guys figured out the Wright brothers have been awakened. That confirms our suspicions. Their Custodian stopped responding to our messages several weeks ago.”

“Forgive me,” said Franklin, “but when you say ‘our' messages, do you mean you and your parents?”

“My parents disappeared months ago,” said Jaime. She paused and took a deep breath. “Now it's just me and a handful of other Custodians from the Order. We call ourselves the Promethean Underground.”

“P-U!” said Scott. “That's funny!”

Jaime scowled. “We've been working in secret, gathering whatever information we can. This latest business with the Wright brothers has us very concerned.”

“Why?” asked Franklin. “What are they planning?”

“We have no idea, and that's why we need your help. We do know that the brothers appear to be under the control of someone calling himself the Emperor. We believe he's done something to their Custodian.”

“You said my own Custodian was killed,” said Franklin. “Did this Emperor awaken me for the same reason he awakened the Wright brothers?”

“We believe so.”

“Then why am I not under his control as well?”

“We don't know. For some reason, you were immune. After he failed with you, he tried again, this time with the brothers.”

“Wait a minute,” said Victor. “That phone call at Ernie's that made Ben go crazy—that must have been the Emperor calling.” He filled Jaime in.

“I'm sure that was him,” she agreed. “And it sounds like he hasn't given up trying to control Ben. We have to make absolutely sure that never happens.”

“Don't worry,” volunteered Scott. “We turned off the phone.”

“That won't be enough,” said Jaime. “One of our Custodians has connections. We'll make sure your number can't be traced to your home.”

“I never thought of that,” said Victor.

“Of course you didn't,” said Jaime. “Now we need to go on the attack. It's time to do some investigating at the Right Cycle Company.”

“Do you think that's wise?” asked Victor. “We know the Emperor is still trying to control Ben. Maybe one of the other Custodians should go.”

“The other Custodians—what's left of them—are guarding their own inventors. I'd go myself, but I have my hands full working for the Underground. But you're right about Dr. Franklin. He should stay far away from that place.”

Franklin nodded. “If not me, then who?”

Jaime sighed. “I can't believe I'm saying this, but it has to be these two.”

“We could call the police,” said Scott. “Or the army.”

“We can't trust anyone. As it is, the mayor and several important officials appear to be under the Emperor's control.” Jaime glanced at her watch. “I have to go. I've been here too long already.”

“How do we report back to you?” asked Victor.

“Take this,” said Jaime. She handed Victor a cell phone. “Call the number in the address book, leave a message, then destroy the phone. When the time is right, I'll contact you. Until then, you're on your own.” She stood up. “Dr. Franklin, it's been an honor.”

“Godspeed, Jaime. Please send my regards to the other Custodians.”

Jaime pulled her hood up over her head and slipped out the door.

“She seems nice,” said Scott.

“It is good to know the Order survives,” agreed Franklin. “Although it sounds like we have much work to do. What is our next move?”

“I hate to say it,” said Victor, “but Scott and I need to pay the Wright brothers another visit.”

Victor followed
Scott through the window and dropped down onto the warehouse floor. He surveyed the immense room.

“It's all gone!” whispered Scott. Where there had once been mountains of disassembled bicycle parts, only a few scattered piles remained. “Where did it go?”

Victor looked around the room. “That freight elevator—I bet they took everything upstairs.”

Scott ran over to the elevator. “Should I push the button?”

“Definitely not,” said Victor, examining a pile of reflectors and fenders. “We're here to collect evidence, then get out before we get caught. Just take pictures of everything you see, and I'll make notes. Got it? Scott?”

Victor looked around. Where had Scott gone?

“Up here!” Scott shouted from the top of a metal staircase.

“
Shhh!
Someone will hear you!”

“Come on up! I found a door.”

Victor hesitated. Whatever the Wright brothers were up to was probably going on upstairs. Reluctantly, he climbed the staircase.

“It's locked,” said Scott, yanking the doorknob.

“Give me a minute.” Victor pulled a case from his pocket and knelt by the keyhole. He opened the case and selected two stainless-steel tools: a thin tension wrench and an L-rake lock pick.

Thirty seconds and one soft click later, he turned the knob and eased the door open a crack.

“Nice!” Scott whispered, impressed.

Cautiously, Victor pulled the door open a little more and peeked inside. He could hear two faint voices, masked by a loud hissing noise.

“What do you see?” Scott asked.

“I can sort of hear them, but I can't see a thing,” Victor said. “A bunch of crates are in the way.”

“If we can't see them, they can't see us, right?” Scott pushed past Victor and skittered up against the stack of crates. He looked back at Victor and waved him in.

Victor took a deep breath and crawled across the rough wooden floor to where Scott was hiding. The hissing grew louder.

 

“That was crazy!” Victor said. “If they'd seen you—”

Scott peered over the top of a crate. “I think they're too busy to notice. Look.”

Victor peeked between two crates. He and Scott were at the edge of another enormous room, as large as the one downstairs. At the center stood the Wright brothers. Orville hunched over a table staring intently at some large papers—blueprints, Victor guessed. Beside him, Wilbur operated a blowtorch that hissed flames, welding a section of a monstrous metal contraption. Forty feet long and almost as wide, it was constructed of countless bicycle chains, sprockets, and frames welded together into a terrifying skeletal system.

Wilbur twisted a valve on an acetylene tank and shut off the torch. Orville helped his brother stretch a long piece of canvas across the top of the contraption, fastening it to the framework.

“They're making wings,” Scott whispered. “It's a giant bat!”

“That's no bat,” Victor said. “They're the Wright brothers. It's a giant
bat plane
!”

Orville and Wilbur cocked their heads. Victor clamped his hand over his mouth, and the boys ducked down behind the crate. Two sets of footsteps approached and stopped close by. Victor and Scott held their breaths. After a few tense seconds, the footsteps tip-tapped away and the boys exhaled in relief.

The brothers returned to the plane. Wilbur worked quickly and efficiently, connecting a clear hose to an engine, while Orville opened the valve on a large vat. Glowing blue liquid began flowing through the hose.

Victor recognized it instantly—
harmonic fluid
!

As it surged from the vat to the engine, the brothers gazed at it, as if drawn to the radiant liquid inside.

Scott pointed across the room. “If we can sneak over there, we can get a better look.”

Before Victor could stop him, Scott had slipped farther into the room, ducking behind a new set of crates. Scott snapped a few pictures of the bat plane. Victor silently counted to three and then dashed to Scott's side.

From their new position, they could see two smaller planes. These were completely assembled and painted black. Their wings were curved with a scalloped edge along the back. Each plane looked big enough to carry just one person.

“I get it now,” Victor whispered. “When people reported seeing giant bats around the city, they were actually seeing these things.”

“So why are they building an even bigger one?”

Victor thought for a moment. “Maybe the small ones are prototypes.”

“Proto-whats?” Scott asked.

“Prototypes,” Victor explained. “Early models of an invention that can be tested and improved upon. They must have built the smaller ones so they could figure out how to build that giant one. But why?”

Scott pointed past Victor's shoulder. “Oh, man—look at that!”

A semicircle of five people were seated in a corner of the room, their backs against a strange machine. Victor gasped.