Chapter Thirty-Nine: Fraud and Treason

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First Posted 12.12.08; 4000 words.


Early the next morning a series of square bank boxes, ironclad and locked, began arriving at the Central Bank of Canberra from all over the settled south. One after another they flowed into the bank and were opened, checked, locked and stored. At eight-thirty precisely, Mr. Eric Grimes appeared in the bank's narrow lobby and was ushered into the storage vault, where he re-checked each bank-box and gave orders for the gold sheets to be counted. When one tenth of the wealth had been tallied, he stacked those boxes neatly and had his son-in-law and his Tribal servant load them into a waiting car that trundled, slowly and cautiously, towards the grand building that, among other things, housed the land sales office.

Mrs. Parsons, apparently bored by matters of finance, met them at the land office at nine and lounged about, drinking an iced lemonade while Mr. Parsons approved the rough survey map that laid out the land purchase and Mr. Grimes accepted a sheaf of title deeds and contract papers from the clerk behind the counter. The ten-percent down payment was counted again and locked in the office vault.

Next door, an excitable group of lawyers and rich men had gathered in the private back room of a restaurant, and for the next several hours the contracts were vetted, the map examined, and the parcels doled out. A courier arrived to notify them that the full amount of cash had been received and counted by the bank, and to bring them a series of mortgage papers. At noon, the fountain pens came out and the signing and witnessing began. Mrs. Parsons and the Tribal, Lafayette, were called away to see to some last-minute substitution in the luncheon menu while the lawyers were still shuffling papers. The men lit cigars.

At two o'clock that afternoon the lawyers took their leave and the rest of the gentlemen went into the restaurant to meet their wives. Mr. Grimes carried the thick packet of papers next door to the land office and returned with a map, bound in red ribbon, which he placed next to his plate as he treated them all to a luxurious, highly alcoholic luncheon. The toasts were frequent but quiet, so as not to alert the other patrons to their purpose there, and afterwards most of them stumbled into cabs and off home to sleep out the worst of the afternoon heat.

It was noted, though not remarked upon significantly, that Mr. Parsons was perhaps more attentive than necessary when thanking the family servant for her assistance. Poor Mrs. Parsons pretended not to see.

That evening the Parsons and Mr. Grimes were seen attending a concert of the newest music from a slightly unorthodox composer who used Tribal drum rhythms and folk ballads, carefully collected from old musicians who could remember learning them as children in Great Britain, in his compositions. The result was interesting, all agreed, but hardly the sort of thing to take hold in any big way, the infectious beat of the music notwithstanding.

The next morning, Mr. and Mrs. Parsons began looking for a house in Canberra, which they specified must have spacious quarters for servants, a workshop space for Mr. Parsons, and a suite of rooms for Mr. Grimes. Mr. Parsons was clearly a fine catch for a young woman -- intelligent, well-placed in the burgeoning engineering industry, clever and charming. Inquiries, both subtle and unsubtle, were beginning to circulate about where his family must hail from (such a peculiar accent he had) and whether there were any more ambitious young Parsons men at home.

In the end, Ellis reflected later, it was his own training of Jack in the subtle art of charm and conversational deflection that nearly ruined everything.

"This being wealthy is exhausting," Jack said, lounging back in a chair in the garden gazebo of the hotel, waiting for an early dinner to be brought to them. "I didn't know there were so many things I had to care about when I was buying a house."

"Nor did I when I was your age," Ellis said. He was working on a ledger of accounts, Purva checking his numbers as he went, though in his mind he was going over the plans for that evening. Everything had to be timed right, and luck had to be on their side, and Ellis never liked plans that depended on luck. "You're full young to be considering such things."

"Jack was going to live in railman barracks all his life," Clare said affectionately.

"Nothing wrong with barracks, they're cheap and clean," Jack replied. "Anyway, I think being a ride-along mechanic isn't really where I want to work anymore."

"If you mean you needn't ride someone else's train when you have your own airship, I quite agree," Ellis said. "Clare, what did you tell the estate agent?"

"That we'd be deciding in the next few days," Clare said. "I told him we might go to Melbourne tomorrow to see about a holiday cottage."

"Very well done. You'll be going to the Res instead, I assume?"

Clare nodded. "If that's possible."

"I think we can arrange it."

"I need to stay here, though," Jack said, surprising them. "I'm meeting with the Advancement for Rail Workers union tomorrow. It's actually really interesting, they want to start negotiations for pay. You don't get labour-contract law at Harvard until you're a third year."

"Will you be all right?"

"I think so, I'm going to listen and nod my head a lot."

"Good lad. What I meant, however, was whether you'd be all right if we leave you to go to the Res. I'd rather Clare didn't go alone, and Purva would like to try one of the aeroplanes."

"Oh! Well, yeah. How long?" Jack asked.

"Overnight, if possible," Ellis said.

"Sure, I'll be fine."

Ellis glanced at Purva, caught her eye, and tipped his head towards the gazebo exit. She nodded and left to find William, to make arrangements for their transportation the following morning.

"Actually, I've been very interested in these automobiles," Ellis continued, closing the book. "I think perhaps I shall try driving one out to the Res. Plenty of empty open space for new learners to make mistakes; after all, it can't be that much harder than a horse and cart, or an airship."

Clare glanced up at him. "What are you planning, Ellis?"

"Oh, all sorts of naughty things," he answered.

***

Purva didn't get the chance to sleep, that night, until it was nearly morning. Ellis was gone by then, of course, but William woke her (looking as tired as she felt) and sent her out to the lobby, where Jack and Clare were both waiting for her. Jack had a basket of food, the handle looped over his arm, the top tied tightly shut -- she'd seen people carrying them as packed lunches, purchased from the hotel kitchen.

"There you are," he said, as she and William appeared -- and then, more quietly, "I wanted to say, fly safely today. I don't think I trust those aeroplanes as much as the airship."

"You didn't build them," Clare reminded him. "Of course you don't trust them."

"Well, be safe," he repeated.

"We will," Clare said, patting his cheek. "We'll be back tomorrow at the latest, and we'll send word back with William if we're staying the night. Did you see Ellis leave?"

Purva cast a sidelong glance at William, and found he was doing the same to her.

"Nope -- must have wanted an early start, and I think you have to get lessons before you can hire an automobile," Jack said blithely. "Next time I'm going to make him show me. Anyway, Clare, you and William go on ahead, I just need a word with Purva."

Clare lifted an eyebrow at him, but led William away. Jack offered Purva the basket almost shyly.

"I thought you should take something to eat," he said. "And this way you can say you're carrying it for Clare."

"Merci," she said softly. "We will all enjoy it."

"Well, yes, but I did it for you, is the point," he said. "I mean. You know. I'd kiss you if I could, but..."

"You must not," she added, and gave him a mock-stoic look, holding it until he cracked a slight smile. "There will be time. Now you must go to your union labour railroad people."

"Right. Isn't good to be seen whispering with the servant," Jack sighed. "Look after yourself."

"I have, I will."

When Purva emerged from the hotel, Clare and William were waiting in front of a different automobile from last time. William himself drove, taking them out to the airfield where they were greeted with a single pilot and plane.

Purva thought she might get tired of flying, in sixty or seventy years, but probably not much before then.

Saturday was waiting for them when they landed, along with a pair of the Elders and, beyond them, a crowd of curious onlookers.

"I have things to attend to," Purva announced to Clare, as they climbed out of the aeroplane and waited for the jitters from the engine vibrations to die down. "I think you will as well. Are you well, alone?"

Clare smiled and turned to her, and Purva watched with delight as her hair darkened, her skin shifted subtly and her true face emerged. It was eerie, like the magic that stormpirates possessed, but Purva was not one to shrink from any form of magic, and how many in the world could see something like this? Not many, she imagined; she didn't think glamours were very common, to judge from Ellis's reaction to it.

"I'll be fine," Clare said. "Where are you going?"

"Business," Purva answered loftily. "I will see you at lunch, dinner maybe."

"Clare," Saturday called, coming forward. Clare shot Purva a smile and turned.

"Dr. Saturday," she replied, coming forward. "I'm glad you're here. I think you have a lot to show me."

"This way -- some of the other tribes are beginning to arrive, the Elders want to meet you," Saturday said. "And I need to take you to the lab, as well."

"I've managed to arrange to stay the night here if I have to -- I mean, we won't be missed in Canberra," Clare said, as they walked off. Purva waited until they were gone, trailed by the gawpers and onlookers, and then set off to the south-east, skirting the boundaries of the Res. She made good time for the banks of Lake Cowal, her long stride carrying her through the dry creekbed and up the crudely-cut steps efficiently. As soon as her head was above the banks she saw it -- the high, solid shadowed profile of the automobile that William had found them, really more of a haycart with an engine on the front.

Ellis was seated on the rear gate of the cart, leaning against one of the wall-poles, pen moving efficiently as he wrote in a small notebook of Australian make, the paper smoother than European paper but also more delicate, more prone to blotting and rips. She waved at him and he glanced up, lifting a hand in acknowledgement; when she reached the cart she jumped up next to him and dug in the basket Jack had given her, coming up with a funny-shaped fruit the Australians called a finger-lime, a tough-rinded thing filled with small, self-contained bundles of juice like a pomegranate. Without speaking, Ellis slit it neatly open with a pocket-knife and presented her with half.

"So," she said, when she had swallowed her first bite, "no trouble on the road, oui?"

"No trouble at all," Ellis replied, licking his fingers. "Clare and Jack all right?"

"He saw us off; she is with le docteur."

"Bon. She'll be shouting at me about this soon enough, I'm sure," he added, pulling his long legs up and hooking his heels on the platform-back of the cart, standing.

"She would not -- she does not mind the theft, does she?" Purva asked.

"No, no. She'd be angry we didn't tell her, risked ourselves and left her and Jack sleeping in the hotel," Ellis bent and hauled the first fabric-wrapped bundle towards the edge. "Shame we had to leave the lockboxes at the bank."

"And what would they say, they come in this morning, the lockboxes, they are gone? No, the lockboxes must stay there, good little imposteurs, little soldiers. This, I like this theft, it is a good theft."

"It's a lot of work," Ellis replied. "You start piling the bundles next to the shack. Once we're unloaded I'll take the first shift digging. How deep a pit you think we need?"

"Do not know -- length of a leg, maybe. You know there are many legends about pirates burying gold, but I think this is the first time one has done it," she added, grunting as she began transporting the heavy bundles of gold -- until so recently, kept in lockboxes in the Central Bank of Canberra -- over to the little shack where they'd first met the Wiradjuri elders.

"Sort of poetic, don't you think?" Ellis said, lowering another bundle into her arms.

"I do not know," she replied. "I think Jack, he will find it funny."

"Eventually," Ellis agreed. "But probably not before he has a heart attack when he finds out."

"Why do we need to steal this gold? It was in your name already," Purva said, coming back for another bundle.

"You ask that now?" Ellis looked surprised. "I'd think the time to ask would be before we stole it."

"I do not need a reason to steal," Purva gave him a sharp grin. "But you do."

"Once we announce what we've done, the bank can simply accuse us of fraud and repossess the money," Ellis said. "Problem is..."

"There is now no money to repossess. You think like a pirate, I am sorry I called you stupid."

"When did you call me stupid?"

"Many times on the airship. In my mind," she added. Ellis rolled his eyes and dropped another sack into her waiting arms.

"Talking of the airship," he added, "do you still want to go to Barataria when this is all over?"

"Yes, but I think maybe you do not need to."

"Oh?"

"I think Jack will take me."

"Is that your clever plan, or his?"

Purva looked dry. "Jack does not have clever plans about people, only machines."

"Too true, but it might have been his attempt at one."

"I think he will suggest it."

"How are you and he getting on?" Ellis asked, dusting his hands on his trousers.

"Very difficult. Well, no, very easy; he is devoted and I favour him. This much, tres bon. But I see difficulty. Perhaps too much. Still, pretty boys are meant to be kissed, and he is pretty."

Ellis burst into laughter. "Good point."

"So. We will go to Barataria. What will you do?"

"Depends. If we're successful, I'll probably be appointed to negotiate a treaty between the Crown and Australia. Then back to Great Britain, write a book about the whole thing, spend a lot of time sleeping. What exactly will you do in Barataria?"

"I will find my family. There are uncles, aunts, cousins. I carry the letter of marque still," she added, patting the pocket of her trousers. "I will demand a ship and a crew as my -- what is it? Droit de naissance. What is owed to me."

"Birthright," Ellis said, checking the knot on one of the bundles.

"Oui, well then. Now I can demand in two languages."

Ellis laughed. "Fair enough. Come on, let's shift this."

They worked well into the afternoon, first transferring the bundles out of the automobile and then taking turns digging up the shack's pounded-dirt floor. By the time Purva had begun loading the bundles into the pit, Ellis was feeling the strain in his shoulders and arms, rubbing them to keep the muscles from cramping up.

"I am getting too bloody old for this," he remarked, as Purva laid the last of the bundles in the pit and began shoving the displaced dirt over them. He rummaged tiredly in the food-basket, came up with a bread roll, broke it open and began to eat it dry.

"I think so," Purva agreed. "You should retire, write many books, send me free copies."

Ellis laughed. "Is that because you think I'm old or because you like my books?"

"Both! Mais, you are not so old. Just too old for this."

"Well, as one criminal to another, I thank you for your consideration," he said. "And I will take your suggestions under advisement. Here, let me."

He took the shovel from her and finished up the burial of the gold blocks, tamping the earth down as much as possible, stomping on it when he felt it was solid enough to bear his weight. Purva got up and came after, sprinkling dust and pounding it down with a blunt-ended stick, then adding more dry earth to make it look authentic. Ellis tossed the handmade shovel into a corner and surveyed his work -- first the flawless-looking floor, then the red sore marks on his hands.

"I could murder some of that stew," he said.

"Yes, but -- " Purva held out her hand. "Give me your pistol."

"Why?"

She jerked her head at the doorway and he listened intently. There was the growling sound of a motor in the distance -- an automobile, drawing closer. Probably just tourists going up to the Res...

Purva took the pistol from his hand and pressed herself against the open frame of the door, peering out.

"Tourist car," she said.

"Then that's -- "

"Coming for us."

" -- bad," Ellis finished. "How many in it?"

"Hard to see -- one, I think?"

"All right, don't shoot yet. Make it count."

She gave him a sarcastic look and returned her attention to the car outside. He heard it roll to a stop on the rough ground and then the door open and close, and footsteps coming closer --

"Don't shoot!" William Libris shouted, as Purva thrust her head and shoulders through the doorway and took aim. "It's me, don't shoot!"

"William?" Ellis asked, as Purva lowered the pistol and stepped outside. He followed her, almost running into William. The younger man looked terrible -- out of breath, nervous, fidgety. "What on earth -- ?"

"Jack Baker's been arrested for fraud and treason," William blurted.

"Mon dieu," Purva said, looking shocked. "Pourquoi? I -- why?"

"Your hotel rooms are being searched," William plowed on, ignoring her. "There are warrants issued for both of you and for Clare -- "

"The bank job?" Ellis asked, glancing back to where the gold lay buried. William gulped in air.

"No, not the bank -- someone's discovered he's not with the railroad. They took him away in shackles -- there was nothing I could do!"

"Absolutely -- you did the right thing telling us. Are you implicated?"

"Nosir," William said.

"Then the Tribals are safe?"

"Yes, but Jack -- "

" -- will handle himself well, I've no doubt. He's been in tighter spots," Ellis said, clapping William on the shoulder. "How did you find out?"

"Tribals at the hotel and at the prison. Reliable information."

"Have you been up to the Res yet?"

William shook his head.

"All right. Do you need to take the automobile back?"

"Yes...shouldn't even have it now."

"Go, we'll follow shortly. Give it back to its driver and get out of sight. We need to hide this one, then we'll walk in. Send someone to meet us at the gates. It's all right, William," he added, kindly. William seemed to calm a little. "Listen -- don't tell Clare. Don't let anyone else tell her. If they do, stop her from going back, because she'll try."

William nodded.

"Right. Go on with you then," he said, and gave William a gentle push towards the car. Purva turned to him and unleashed a torrent of ungrammatical French that he could barely follow.

"Purva -- Purva! It's all right. They have him locked up, things could be worse," he said, holding out his hands to calm her. "We don't execute without trial on land, Purva, and he's not a pirate. There's no safer place for him right now than behind a few stout iron bars."

"We must free him," she said, determination apparently allowing her to drop back into some form of English.

"I agree, but you must stay calm," Ellis said. "Clare's going to be difficult enough to stop without you joining her in the mutiny. You need to do as I say, Purva."

She nodded. "So long as you say to do something."

"First, hide the car. Next, we'll go up to the Res. Their timing is bad -- we're safe here, they have no idea where to look for us and Jack won't tell them. Poor lad," he added. "I'm sure he's terrified, but he knows how important this is. He knows what to do."

***

LET ME TELL YOU A STORY BOUT A MAN NAMED AARON
IN A TRAGIC AND FATEFUL TIME
HE PUT TWO PINS IN HIS POCKET
KISSED HIS WIFE THAT MORNING
WENT TO RIDE ON THE CAMBRIDGE LINE!

AARON HANDED IN HIS TWO PINS AT THE HARVARD SQUARE STATION
MEANT TO TAKE IT TO JAMAICA PLAIN
WHEN HE GOT THERE THE CONDUCTOR TOLD HIM
ONE - MORE - PINNY!
AARON COULD NOT GET OFF THAT TRAIN!

Jack had run out of names to call the men who had punched him in the face on his way to the labour meeting and put shackles on his hands. He wasn't much good at taunting them either, but he was doing his best to live up to the reputation he imagined Ellis would have had if he'd been imprisoned.

He wasn't feeling great about being in prison, in a general sense, but there wasn't much he could do about it, other than refuse to confess to anything and to tell the men who questioned him that Mrs. Parson and Mr. Graves had taken their servant and gone to Brisbane for the day. He felt this was fairly spur-of-the-moment brilliant, as long as they didn't show up tomorrow morning from the Res.

He'd already worked his way through several of the dirtier train songs he'd picked up at Harvard, and had moved on to political train songs. In his own single-minded way, Jack was a master of psychological warfare.

AND DID HE EVER RETURN?
NO HE NEVER RETURNED
AND HIS FAAAAATE IS STILL UNLEAAAARNED
HE MAY RIDE FOREVER CROSS THE BOSTON RIVER
HE'S THE MAN ON THE CAMBRIDGE LINE!

NOW ALL DAY LONG AARON RIDES OVER THE RIVER
CRYING WHAT WILL BECOME OF ME?
HOWEVER WILL I GET
TO SEE MY SISTER IN CHELSEA
OR MY COUSIN IN ROXBURY?

"SHUT UP!" one of the bastards yelled, and Jack made a rude gesture in his direction before belting out the next verse.

AARON'S WIFE GOES DOWN TO HARVARD SQUARE STATION
EVERY DAY AT A QUARTER PAST TWO
AND THROUGH THE OPEN WINDOW
SHE THROWS AARON HIS SUPPER
AS THE TRAIN GOES RUMBLIN THROUGH!

BUT WILL HE EVER RETURN --

"Right, that's enough," the guard who'd shouted at him said, and stood up from his chair. He was enormous -- taller than Jack, who wasn't by any means short -- and built like a barrel. He slammed the barred door of the cell against its housing, growling.

"You don't shut up, I'mma come in there and show you what happens to -- "

"OI!" someone else shouted. "You touch him and Bell'll have your stones in a sack!"

"But he's -- "

"Bell's special prisoner," the other man called. "Let him alone, he ain't doing any harm. Ignore 'im and he'll probably stop."

The man bared his teeth at Jack, and went back to his chair. Jack waited just long enough for them to relax before starting in again.

NOW YOU CITIZENS AND SOLDIERS
DON'T YOU THINK IT'S A SCANDAL
THAT IT'S THREE PINS FROM HARVARD YARD?
FIGHT THE FARE INCREASE
LINING THE MAYOR'S POCKETS
THEN SEND YOUR BOYS AND GIRLS TO HAAAAARVARD!

"What the hell do you think you're doing, anyway?" the second guard asked, as Jack drew breath for the chorus. He let it out, then inhaled again.

"Keeping myself amused?" he asked.

"You have to shout like that?"

"Yeah, you're funnier than just singing on its own," Jack retorted.

"You do whatever you want, boyo, nobody's listening to you."

"Okay," Jack said cheerfully, and started singing at the top of his lungs once more.

ACROSS THE PRAIRIE ON A STREAK OF RUST
THERE'S SOMETHING MOVING IN A CLOUD OF DUST
IT CRAWLS INTO THE VALLEY WITH A WHEEZE AND A WHINE
IT'S THE TWO O'CLOCK FLYER ON THE DUMMY LINE!

Chapter Forty

Comments

[copperbadge.livejournal.com]

Just a six-pack of Win. The rest of the time I have to wing it. :D