The Adventures of Phineas Frakture (10 page)

Episode
7

“Did you get a good look at him?” William asked, handing Phineas a cold compress as they made their way down the street. The lack of generosity in the city never ceased to amaze him. As the inspector had already vacated Burke’s apartment, it took William the better half of an hour to scour the neighborhood, banging on doors, before he acquired a cloth and cold water. He had finally had to pay a more than unfair bribe to an elderly woman for the simple remedy.

“All I saw were stars and a red fez,” said Phineas.

“That should narrow the search. How many fezzes could there be in New York?”

The duo turned the corner and stopped. Phineas sighed as they observed several hundred red fez-covered Shrine Masons entering their temple.

“I need coffee,” said Phineas.

“I’ll have something stronger, perhaps,” returned William.

As they continued on, Phineas rubbing his neck and William still counting fezzes, something caught Phineas’ attention in the reflection of a storefront window across the street.

“Let’s take a short cut,” Phineas announced, suddenly guiding his friend into an alley on the right. As soon as they were around the corner, he pushed William up against the wall and motioned for him to keep silent.

A moment later, a head capped with a fez slowly peered around the corner. Phineas quickly grabbed the man by the lapels and hauled him into the alley. The squat, dark-skinned man went wide-eyed at being caught.

“Why are you following us?” demanded Phineas. “Were you the one who hit me?” He quickly patted the man down, looking for the key and any weapons. All the while, the man jabbered quickly in a foreign tongue, which Phineas assumed was Egyptian.

“What is he saying?” asked William.

Phineas turned his attention to his friend. “When have you
ever
known me to speak Egyptian…or any other language for that matter?”

“Well, you were studying the symbols and texts…and you speak in tongues when you get angry, add the science-gibberish and…I’ll be quiet now.”

Phineas shook his head and returned to the foreigner, who was still jabbering. Finally, he finished with a word Phineas understood:
Steamhotep
.

“Steamhotep?”

“Yes…yes…Steamhotep,” said the foreigner with the look of a lost puppy. He obviously wanted to tell Phineas something, but he had no way of communicating with him.

The professor thought for a moment and then pulled both the foreigner and William by their arms. “Come on. I think that I have a solution.”

Hailing a cab, the trio journeyed to a shop that sported a giant automaton in front of it. Phineas paid the driver, and with a belch of smoke from its boiler, the cab went on its way.

“What are we doing here?” asked William as he gazed at the monstrosity standing over the entrance.

“Finding a solution,” replied Phineas. Fortunately, because of the Expo, the majority of shops in the city were open on Sunday. They entered the shop and were greeted by a shriveled old man with white hair that stuck out in every direction, wearing a multi-lensed ocular enhancer over his right eye. “I am looking for an interpreter. Do you have any available?”

“Sweep!” the old man shouted, much louder than expected.

Phineas and William looked at each other, confused. A minute later, an automaton walked in holding a broom.

“This is Sweepio. He’s an interpreter, but all he’s been good for around here is cleaning the place.”

Phineas looked the model over as it started talking.

“I am AD1977, human/automaton relations.
He
calls me ‘Sweepio’. I am fluent in over one hundred forms of communication.”

“Do you speak…” Phineas turned to the foreigner, “say something,” and gestured for him to talk. When the man finished, Phineas continued. “Whatever that is?”

“Of course, sir. It’s like a second language to me.”

William leaned in. “Ask it if it speaks ‘Bocce’.”

“Do you speak…” Phineas turned and glared at him. “What the devil kind of language is ‘Bocce’? I swear, William, you live in your own world sometimes.”

“Far, far away,” William said, drifting off.

“All right, how much for it?” he asked the shop owner.

“One hundred dollars.”

“A hundred dollars? For this? He’s ancient and…things are falling off of him.” Phineas flicked a piece attached to a spring and it went flying across the counter, where the owner caught it.

“Ninety then…and you’ll pay ten for breaking that.”

Seeing as how he wasn’t going to get a cheaper price, he paid the man. “Come on. You can leave the broom.”

“Sir,” the automaton said, “if I might say, I have a companion in the backroom that is really good at—”

“No,” snapped Phineas. “One wreck is enough.”

As they walked out of the shop, Phineas continued griping about the cost of the old automaton until he realized that he was walking alone. He stopped, turned around, and noticed that William and the foreigner were standing and watching Sweepio walking, in what was actually a rocking shuffle, twenty yards behind them. Phineas grumbled some more as he walked back to the interpreter.

“Are you always this slow?”

“Unfortunately, sir. I have been in that shop for a very long time.”

“All right. Let’s see if we can speed you up a bit. Where are your memory punch-cards located?”

“In my cranial cavity, of course.”

Phineas checked the back of its head, found a key protruding from the neck, and then pulled out a screwdriver from his coat. He loosened some screws and wiggled Sweepio’s head. When that didn’t work, he picked up a loose brick from next to the building and smacked the side of the automaton’s head several times. Much to William’s, and Sweepio’s, surprise, Phineas then yanked the head off of the body.

“We only need this part,” Phineas said, tossing it in his hand.

“How undignified,” Sweepio stated as his body began to rock/shuffle around in circles on the sidewalk.

Phineas found a piece of discarded twine and tied each end to one of the interpreter’s ‘ears’. He then hung the head around the foreigner’s neck. “You interpret for him as well as us, understood?”

“Clearly, sir.”

“Now, first things first.” Phineas looked around and spotted an outside café. “I need coffee.”

After being seated and ordering, Phineas looked at his subject.

“Now, who are you and what do you know about Steamhotep?”

“I am…Ishaq,” the foreigner stated via Sweepio. “I came from Luxor, after I saw that the one called Cavanaugh had unearthed Steamhotep’s tomb. There is a legend among my people about a great builder. He created machines for the pharaohs to erect monuments and palaces for them…and it is said that he dreamed of everlasting life.”

“What happened to him?”

“No one knows. It is said that he became obsessed with immortality…others say he wished to rule the kingdom. It all depends on who you ask. But, one thing is for sure…that the warning on the sarcophagus was to be heeded at all costs.”

“How could he still live?” asked Phineas. “I examined him myself. He has no organs, he’s decaying as we speak…there is just no scientific proof to back up this ‘curse’.”

“Where science fails, the gods prevail. It is said that the power of Anubis himself flows through Steamhotep. I watched you yesterday. You saw the heart of Steamhotep.”

“Yes…like nothing I have ever seen before.”

“He created everything within him with science…and magic.”

“Bah…no such thing.” Phineas took a sip of his coffee. “Do you know who killed Cavanaugh and Burke?”

“Only that there is a cult…”

“Now there’s a cult?” muttered William.

“…that wishes to bring back the glory of the old empire. Steamhotep could bring about that glory with his genius. I, Ishaq, have been entrusted by my people to see that this does not happen. Please, you must help me.”

“If we do not stop this cult…what then?” asked Phineas.

“I do not know. Only that despair will follow,” finished Ishaq.

“So, do you have some sort of holy army at your disposal?” asked Phineas.

“No.”

“A mystic weapon that can slay the undead? A magic lamp?”

“No. Where do you come up with these ideas? Do you think that because we have old gods, we are all a bunch of magicians? I am insulted by these stereotypes that you throw around. Do I come here and ask you where your six-shooter is, cowboy? Do you even have a gun?”

“He has a rifle that makes monsters vomit,” said William.

“And this works?” asked Ishaq.

“Not really, no,” answered Phineas. “Look, we need some way to stop him if this is as bad as you say. Don’t you have any ideas?”

“I am making this up as I go,” Ishaq humbly replied.

“Great. Let me guess…when you say that you were entrusted by your people, what you really meant was that no one else wanted to do it, and you drew the short straw.”

“Yes. I did.”

A shadow passed over the café, and Phineas looked up. High above, an Imperial Airship hovered over them, its engines silent. An antennae array was lowered from the cabin.

“I think…that we are not the only ones intent on finding our wayward mummy.” Phineas stood up and looked at the Zeppelin. Whether he was addressing his companions or challenging those listening above, he wasn’t sure himself. “The race is on, gentlemen.”

Episode
8

The city of New York…its citizens going about their collective lives and completely ignorant of what transpires within its midst. Somewhere among the burrows, buried within the factories, warehouses, and bistros, in the shelter of an obscure basement, a key is inserted and turned. Once, twice, and then a last fateful click that signals a new beginning. A circle of hooded figures begin chanting…an ancient ritual passed down through the millennia.

On a day where visibility was unusually clear, free from haze and smog, a disturbance was reported. A single focal point of clouds began to form and swirl. Darkness suddenly fell across a section of the city, blocking out the sun. The wind picked up, churning around a Brownstone, blowing papers, hats, and signs in a vortex that increased speed until a visible tornadic funnel spun, held in place by unseen forces. Lightning spat sporadically, reaching out to metallic receptors around the building. People ran for cover in the vicinity, while those outside the affected area watched in awe as the spectacle unfolded.

Phineas, William, and Ishaq—with the automaton’s head still secure around his neck—witnessed the phenomenon from the rooftop of a building adjacent to the café that they had vacated to view the occurrence. To their rear, the Imperial zeppelin beat a hasty retreat from the storm, much to Phineas’ delight.

“All right,” said William, “who was that and
what
is that?”

Phineas raised an arm towards the airship. “State Security and…something really bad,” he finished by raising the other arm towards the storm.

“Oh, that clears everything up,” William said sarcastically. “Why would I.S.S. be interested in us?”

“Probably because we know about the mummy and there is something that has caught their attention about him.” Phineas looked to Ishaq. “Is this what you expected to happen if the key was turned?”

“No…this is much worse,” came Ishaq’s translated reply from the automaton.

“Well, that is comforting,” William quipped. “Where to now?”

Phineas, with his eye on the disturbance, replied, “There. We need to find the mummy.”

“I was afraid that you would say that,” sighed William.

Heading towards the stationary tornado was much more difficult than they had imagined. First of all, no cabbies, live or mechanical, would take them in the direction of the vortex, and the trio had to run the entire distance. Then, as they drew closer to the epicenter, they were faced by an onrushing mob, determined to flee the area.

When they were approximately half-way there, the winds subsided, and slowly, the mob began to stop panicking and it was easier to cut through the throng of people.

When they reached their destination, clearly discernible by the amount of debris and damage in the area, Phineas did a quick scan of the sky, looking for the zeppelin. When nothing presented itself above or in their vicinity, Phineas decided that it was safe to proceed.

As they started up the steps of the Brownstone, William put his hand on Phineas’ shoulder. “Wait. Why do you think this is the right place?”

Phineas looked around. “See all of these buildings? What makes this one different from all the rest?”

“They all look the same to me. All the windows are smashed, and it looks like they were beaten with flying debris.”

“Except this one,” Phineas explained. “This one has the windows smashed out and, whereas the others are battered and brickwork pushed inward, this one’s walls distinctly bow outwards. The force of the storm originated here; and it is here where we will find our mummy.”

“But, do we really want to find it? You heard our friend here. This is a lot worse than he expected.”

“If we don’t find him, someone else will. If you think this is bad on its own, what do you think would happen if Grant or Victoria got their hands on him?”

“At least he would be safe from harming the public in the government’s hands.”

“Those fops could make a simple can-opener lethal. They…” Phineas stopped both verbally and physically as they entered the building.

As one, their heads looked up at the hole in the building stretching from the basement up through the roof. The entire interior was gutted. Floors, walls, doors, and all furnishings were pulverized and embedded into the outer walls, creating a bizarre mosaic that spiraled downwards. Their gaze returned to the basement where, in the center of the floor, lay a solitary figure…wearing a red fez.

“Help me down,” said Phineas as he turned to grab hold of the edge.

William took his hand and lowered him into the basement.

Once down, Phineas approached the body and turned it over. “Well, I’m pretty sure that this is the fellow who conked me.”

“Is he alive?” William asked. “Can he tell you where the mummy is?”

“Doubtful. He’s dead…his throat is crushed.”

“Our murderer, again?”

“No,” replied Phineas grimly. “I have a feeling that he is the one who killed Cavanaugh and his assistant. Look here.” He pulled a wrench from the man’s belt and held it up toward the hole above him for William and Ishaq to see. “This is the same size as the one used in the murders. It looks as if he received a taste of his own medicine.” Phineas knelt down and ran his finger over the man’s throat. Unlike Cavanaugh and Burke’s injuries, the marks on this man’s throat were flat and without the toothed edge of the man’s wrench. As he stood, Phineas looked up at the walls. “There were others here, too,” he said, pointing at long red smears circling the room. “They became part of the décor when the tornado came down.”

Pushed off to the side of the room, a lone table was knocked on its side. Phineas walked over to it and turned it over. There was a charred outline of a body on the top of it and pieces of melted wax and cloth stuck to it.

“Our mummy was definitely in this basement.”

“From up here, it looks like your sidewalk,” stated William.

Phineas growled something and shook his head. He looked around the floor and then quickly moved to the back of the room where he found stone steps leading outside. A few moments later, he returned.

“There is a trail of scrap and paraffin going out the back way.” Phineas dusted off his hands and then ran them through his hair. Looking up, he tried to keep a straight face. “I never thought that I would say this, but…it seems that we have a mummy on the loose on the streets of New York.”