Jack Kane and the Statue of Liberty (16 page)

As he returned the box to his pocket, Betsy flailed her arm about attempting to get someone’s attention. The area she led him to was the open basement of the building. Pulleys, winches, lifts, elevators, trucks, trolleys, and more people than Jack thought possible moved freight from one spot to another in a finely choreographed dance. Just as quickly as one load disappeared, another would appear.

As she continued to wave her arm about, he watched the faces of the men to see who would look their way and approach them. Several men whistled at her, but a man in filthy black coveralls, and an equally dirty conductor’s hat, smiled a gap-toothed smile and waved back.

“Who’s that?”

“That’s the man who’s going to help us.”

Jack sighed. “I figured that part. I mean, who is he?”

“His name is Reginald Ringford, and he’s the Freight Coordinator of the Waldorf Building. He’s the man who knows where each of these shipments is coming from and where it’s going. Nothing comes in or out of this building without his knowledge. All we have to do is ask him where the shipment for Sohmer and Company is, get on that transport, and we’ll be on our way. Easy as pie.”

Jack made pie before. It was a disaster. He hoped Betsy’s experience had been far different.

“’Allo, Betsy. How’s your father? I don’t see him too often anymore what with him being down at the docks and busier than a one legged man at a—”

“Good day, Reginald.” She held her hand out for him to take. “My father is doing well. Busy as all get out, as I’m sure you can imagine.”

“Oh aye, busy indeed. If he’s got half the work I’ve got here, he’s up to his eyeballs in alligators, and I tell you I’ve got enough work to keep a gang of—”

“I was wondering if you could help me locate a shipment? It is being delivered to Sohmer and Company.”

“Oh aye, I can help, but first you need to introduce me to your fellow here.”

Betsy looked from Reginald to Jack and back again. “Reginald, this is Mr. Jack Kane.”

“Oh aye, I’ve heard of you. Didn’t you used to work for Betsy’s father at the docks? Ran into a bit of bad luck, as I heard tell of it, and cost you your job. Call me Reggie. Only Ms. Wilkes here calls me Reginald. She likes to be all formal what-not. I don’t stand on no pomp and circumstance between a good old boy. Good to meet you, it is. Good to meet you, indeed.”

Jack tried to say something but between Reggie’s non-stop talk and the volume of his voice, likely due to the extreme noise in the basement, he hadn’t gotten a chance. He
had
gotten a good smell of the fellow and would be more than happy to be anywhere else.

“Oh aye, that shipment. Sure thing. For the Sohmer and Company folks? I know the one you’re looking for. Just came down the lift. It’s getting loaded on a crawler over here. Come along. I know the driver. I’ll let him know you’ll be catching a ride. Good fellow. His father owns the pub over on 35
th
. Great place to grab a brew. Your father and I used to have a pint or two from time to time before I left the docks for good. You’ll have to be sure and tell him I said we need to get us a pint and catch up, we will.”

Thankfully, Reggie stopped talking then and led them across the maze of the basement floor and to the crawler carrying the shipment of piano wire. When he thought Betsy wasn’t looking, Jack took out the cube. He clicked the wheel and held it next to his ear. It was difficult to hear anything beyond the din of the crew and lifts and vehicles and Reggie shouting orders every step of the way and continuing to talk to Betsy throughout. Jack pocketed the cube.

“Thank you, Reginald. I’ll let my father know to contact you.”

In no time they were on the back of the crawler and headed out of the building and down the street.

Reggie waved, and the smile never left his face. With a nudge of Betsy’s elbow, Jack raised his hand in the air and waved as well.

“I told you I would get us connected with this shipment.” Betsy’s smug smile worried Jack.

The crawler bumped and jostled down the road. It was designed for loads considered mostly indestructible due to the constant bumping and shaking, to say nothing of the smoke that belched from the exhaust ports on either side of the bed where Jack and Betsy were. He had difficulty keeping his footing and nearly fell several times whereas she was as comfortable as a jockey on an old nag that could barely walk.

“Y-y-yes you d-d-did. Thank y-y-ou.”

“Relax. You need to let your legs go with the flow and rhythm. It’s almost like standing in the incoming tide on Coney Island. You’re too busy trying to anticipate each movement instead of relaxing and going with it. Just pretend you’re dancing.”

He had never danced, let alone gone to Coney Island to stand in the tide. He decided, after the umpteenth time banging his knees against the side, he’d sit. Motion sickness had all but overtaken him, and the last thing he wanted was to arrive at Sohmer and Company feeling ill while trying to ask questions.

“Take this.” She handed him something could have been a butterscotch candy.

He wasn’t in the mood to argue; the longer they stayed on the crawler the more he wanted to jump off. He unwrapped the candy and popped it in to his mouth then nearly spit it out straightaway.

A hand clapped over his lips. “Just you keep that in there. I can see you turning green, and this will help. It’s a ginger candy. You need to trust me on this one.”

Again, she asked him to trust her. It was as if she wanted Jack to believe everything she said: from eating a candy will stop his motion sickness to the British are plotting something against America. All along she’d been telling him this was not a plot to do in the piano industry. Had she been trying to get him to deviate away from his path? Was asking for him to trust her a way to get him to change his mind about something else?

No, he had known her far too long. She’d never do anything like that. It was her infernal fascination with the British that keep her brain going in that direction. Everywhere she looked there was another British conspiracy. He knew he was on the right track about the British trying to destroy the piano industry. It couldn’t be anything else.

Jack pulled her hand away from his mouth. The candy did make him feel far better, but not enough he felt he might attempt standing again. “Thank you, Betsy.”

“All better?” She wiped her palm on Jack’s pants.

“Almost.” His stomach had stopped doing loops at least.

“Good, because we’re here.”

He did stand this time and thankfully the crawler slowed to, well, a crawl as they neared the company’s main headquarters. The box in his pocket gently buzzed. He pulled it out and adjusted the thumb wheel. The color on the top flowed and shifted from green to a soft amber. As the crawler lurched to a stop, he lost his balance and fell.

“What is it?” Betsy asked, helping him back up.

He showed her the amber color on the cube. “I think someone is here. I need to look and see if I can spot them.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” She put her arm around his waist to help him remain steady.

Of course she was right, but he had to see if the two men he’d recognized previously were in the area. This would give him more than enough evidence to explain to Betsy the two men were involved in some way.

Jack remained on his feet as the crawler worked its way around the building. There were several other cars, but what really caught his attention were the two large men extricating themselves from a spyder with strangely worded graffiti on the side. The machine was smaller and would be far faster than the crawler that delivered the shipment of piano wire.

“Jack, quit staring,” she scolded.

“You’re right.”

He pulled out his mask and encased his head in its comfort. After he replaced his hat, he prepared to leap from the crawler and chase after the two men.

Holding tighter to his waist, she pressed in closer. “That’s not what I meant. I mean, what are you staring at?”

“They’re here.”

She sighed. “Who’s here? Let’s pretend for a minute I have no idea what you’re talking about. You’ve got a buzzing box, and you’re looking up the street.” She gestured in the general direction of the two men.

“Those two men, right over there. I spotted them at the docks. I spotted them at the Waldorf Building, and I put a tracker on them. Now they’ve shown up here. I know they have to be involved somehow.” He felt silly smiling with his mask on, but hoped she could hear the excitement in his voice.

The two men focused on the crawler as it made its way around the corner of the four-story manufacturing plant and passed under an arch that took it to the rear loading dock. The men ducked into the neighboring building. Just before the crawler passed under the arch, he read the sign. “Dunn and Over Explosives Emporium.”

That was it.
“Betsy! They might be here to blow up the plant. Put on your mask. We must get inside and warn them as soon as possible.”

Twelve

After the crawler turned and backed up against the dock it finally, blessedly, turned off and settled down. The rear sank until it leveled with the loading dock. Once the gate was lowered, Jack and Betsy walked out. They were greeted by two confused workers pushing a crane arm toward the crawler.

“What are you doing here?” one of them asked.

Jack tried to think of something witty to say, but Betsy beat him to the punch. “We’re here to take over the plant. Your boss is expecting us.”

The two exchanged confused looks.

“Take us to your boss,” she snapped.

Instead of guiding them into the building, the two shook their heads and moved to position the crane to unload the spools piano wire.

Betsy, who hadn’t donned her mask, grunted in disgust, stamped her foot, then headed inside. He could hear the dockworkers making remarks about the masked man. He thought he heard them say “Helmet Head” but couldn’t be sure.

Although tempted to attach a listening device to better hear the two men, he thought it would be best to follow Betsy into the building. After all, they did have pressing business that could very well save not only this building, but the entire piano industry in New York and possibly America. They had to take action.

As he stepped onto the manufacturing floor, he expected to see and hear the hustle and bustle of saws and hammers and cutters going through the motions of making pianos. Instead what he found was a quiet floor with men sitting around drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes. Nothing and no one made pianos. The men watched as Betsy strode across the floor toward a set of stairs.

Jack stopped her. “You should put your mask on. We’re here on official business.”

She halted and lifted a brow at the men staring at her. “I think it’s a little late to disguise my identity. Don’t worry. I’m sure my mask will come in handy later. You keep yours on, though. We can use it to help find out what’s going on here. Maybe this is an inside job. What do you have to see if someone is lying?”

“An inside job? A lie detector? I have a heart rate monitor. Hold on.”

He dug through his pockets. The tracker cube continued to buzz gently, but softer than when they were outside. It concerned him that the two they were following were outside and might have ducked into the Dunn and Over Explosives Emporium. Something he and Betsy didn’t need to deal with was more explosives.

“I think I left my heart rate monitor in my other jacket or in my satchel. I feel so stupid for not grabbing it on the way out. I have so many different—”

“Take a breath. I need you to keep an eye on the owner as I question him. Can you do that? Do you have lenses that will cover your eyes, perhaps?”

“Oh, I’ve got those and even better—they work as lie detectors. This has helped me—”

“Hey!”

He flipped a lever on the side of his mask and smoked lenses dropped into place covering the eyelets. Though they partially obscured his vision, they completely hid his eyes. If the person they interviewed had anything to hide, he would know by colors on the sides of the lenses. Green would show the person was telling the truth. Red meant lying. Not foolproof, but it would be effective enough.

“Perfect. Let’s go.”

He bumped into several things, including the rail to the staircase that led up to the offices. Each time she ‘tsked’, and he would, in turn, apologize.

A couple came from the office and started down the stairs. The first, a large man in a brown, tight-fitting tweed waistcoat and matching pants. He glanced at a pocket watch and frowned when he noticed Jack and Betsy at the bottom of the stairs. The second was a thin woman in a neatly tailored, black suit with a walking stick. Jack wanted to start asking questions straight away, but Betsy took the lead.

“Mr. Sohmer?”

The man put his watch into his waistcoat pocket and shook his head. “I don’t have time for this. I have work to do. You and the man in the iron mask can show yourselves out.”

“I’m Elizabeth Wilkes. I don’t think you understand, sir, we’re—”

“You’re intruding. I have a business to run. Leave now.”

“We’re investigating—”

“I honestly don’t care what you’re investigating. I have delayed shipments and men sitting around with no work to do. So unless you’re making a delivery, I’d appreciate it if you’d leave my premises before I have to call the authorities.”

“You’ll be thankful to know we made sure your piano wire arrived without incident.”

The man stopped and looked intently at Betsy for several long moments, then at Jack. “You look familiar. Aren’t you some sort of do-gooder?”

“I am. In fact—”

“He’s the reason your shipment showed at all. He tried to save your ivory that was sunk this morning.”

The color in the lenses turned a shade of red. Jack squinted.

“It was my understanding the shipment was sunk in the early morning hours.” Mr. Sohmer jerked his chin at Jack. “Are you telling me that, whatever his name is, tried to save my goods and now delivered another to me?”

She bowed her head. “Yes.”

“So I guess you’re looking for some sort of reward for helping me. I’m an honest businessman, and I don’t have money to give to vagabonds looking for a handout. Take my thanks, and have a good day.” He turned to leave.