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Thought I'd post this here, since it's basically been sitting on my laptop for a while now and I don't know where else to post it. Maybe over on the Atomic Thinktank? Eh. Maybe. Any feedback re the story would be appreciated. - xoxo MEL
KING COG
“I remember when Steelbridge used to be a nice place to live.”
Nancy Van Sloan glanced at her grandfather and sighed. Looking out the tinted window of the limo, all she could see was the snarl of traffic, cars packed bumper to bumper on the Cloverleaf.
“This neighborhood used to be fashionable,” said Milton Van Sloan. “Now look at it. Nothing but rundown tenements and liquor stores.”
“I don’t know why you insisted on coming this way, grandfather,” complained Nancy. “You know what the traffic is like.”
Milton Van Sloan grunted and patted her knee. “Maybe because this is the only time we ever get to spend together, Nancy.”
She looked at the old man and felt an infuriating mix of affection and annoyance. Milton Van Sloan was ancient, a stick figure of a man with more money than God and an inexplicable blind spot toward his granddaughter’s faults.
“If you want to spend more time with me, grandfather, we could do it at the club or a nice restaurant. You don’t have to get us stuck in commuter hell if you want to see me.”
“Ah, but this way I get your undivided attention,” said Milton. “If we were out, I’d have to compete with all the young men.”
Not likely, thought Nancy. She was plain as brown paper and knew it. The only men who ever approached her were usually more interested in her trust fund than her. Not that Nancy didn’t know how to use those fellows, to ring every drop of amusement from them that she could. She might have been plain as brown paper, but she had a mind like a steel trap and a heart like flint.
And somehow, none of this registered on her grandfather. He thought she was a sweet, pretty girl. The kind with suitors lining up outside her door. If she didn’t know better, Nancy might have thought the old man had popped his clogs.
“Grandfather, you know I’d be perfectly happy to come over to the house,” said Nancy. “We could have a nice dinner and listen to the radio.”
“I’ll bear that in mind, next time,” said Milton. He glanced out the window and frowned. “Teaneck, turn on the radio.”
In the front seat, the ancient chauffeur switched on the radio. The plucking of harp strings filled the limo. Nancy shifted, wishing her grandfather had more modern tastes in music. Swing would have been ideal, or even a little bump-n-grind, but so-called ‘beautiful music’ set her teeth on edge.
The harpist finished and the announcer began to read the latest news. Nancy listened with half an ear. The Spirit of Lindbergh had completed its circumnavigation of the world and returned to Atlanta. Canadian authorities had arrested three hundred Americans, working illegally in the country, and would be deported them back to the States within the week. President Bach was still at loggerheads with Congress over the Social Security Liquidation Act and more survivors had crawled out of the glowing wreckage of Houston.
“I don’t know why they bother reporting that drivel,” sniffed Nancy. “They should just shoot the traitors and be done with it.”
“Now, now, Nancy. A truly great nation is merciful in its victories.”
She sighed and leaned back, paying more attention now as the announcer began to report the financial news. Under President Bach’s stern reforms, the stock market was starting to show clear signs of recovery. They weren’t out of the depression yet, but most financial analysts agreed that the country was well on the way to economic recovery.
“I wonder if they’re including Texas in that,” mused Nancy.
Milton shook his head, but she thought he might have been secretly amused by her comment. Abruptly, the radio erupted into static.
“Teaneck,” prompted Milton.
The ancient man fiddled with the reception. “I’m sorry, sir. Whatever it is, it seems to be affecting all the channels.”
Suddenly, the car shook, throwing all three occupants about.
“What on earth is going on?” demanded Milton Van Sloan. He clutched Nancy’s hand, even as she turned and peered out the window. The car shook again and Nancy realized it wasn’t just their vehicle, but every vehicle. In fact, it seemed as if the entire Cloverleaf was rocking and buckling.
In the distance, she saw something move. She rolled down the window and looked out, saw a colossal figure, moving in the distance. Nancy stared, taking in the apelike features cast in steel, the electric halo visible about the gigantic robot ape’s head.
“What is it, Nancy?” Her grandfather demanded. “What do you see?”
She shrank back, away from the window. “It’s King Cog.”
Her grandfather looked appalled. “Is it heading this way?”
“I don’t know,” said Nancy, softly. “I couldn’t tell.”
There were screams and cries of alarm coming from outside. People were abandoning their cars, rushing away from the monstrous robot. Nancy reached for the door and opened it.
“Nancy, what are you doing?”
“We can’t stay here, grandfather. If King Cog comes here the entire Cloverleaf might collapse.”
“The young lady is right, sir,” said Teaneck. He had already opened his door. “We need to get to safety.”
Milton nodded. “Very well. Teaneck, you’re armed?”
“Always, sir.”
“Excellent,” said Milton. “You take the point. I shall stay with Nancy.”
The ancient chauffeur nodded, smiling. “It’ll be just like old times, sir.”
“Ah! The Lost City of the Azca!”
“Hopefully better than that, sir,” chided Teaneck. He had climbed out of the car, moving with surprising agility for such an elderly fellow. In one hand, Nancy saw that the driver carried an atom-gun.
The Cloverleaf shuddered again and Nancy slid out of the car. King Cog was closer now, definitely moving toward the Cloverleaf. She turned and helped her grandfather out of the car. Milton Van Sloan had wrapped his scarf around his thin neck and produced an atom-gun of his own. Nancy glanced at him. He smiled, wryly.
“I’ve learned, dear, to always prepare for the worst.” Grabbing her arm, the little group began to move, threading their way through the stopped cars. A man in a business suit rushed past them, clutching a briefcase to his chest. A grim faced older lady, wearing an impressive hat, stalked past, thundering, “Where the hell are the police?”
“That’s a damn fine question,” muttered Milton.
“I don’t think we’ll need the police, grandfather,” said Nancy. “Look! Up in the sky!”
Above the head of the robot ape, a great silver skull had appeared. It was wreathed in green light. As the trio watched, the skull’s mouth opened and a jet of flame erupted from its bony maw. It struck King Cog and the air filled with the hiss and sizzle of metal melting.
“That’s the Aero-Skull!” someone shouted.
“It’s the League of Adventurers!”
Nancy turned, saw that many of the people who had been fleeing the elevated highway before had paused, to gawk at the conflict. She scowled at them, and turned her back on the fight, pulling her grandfather with her.
“Come along, grandfather! It’s still not safe!” She turned, frowning at the chauffeur. “You too, Teaneck!”
She bulled her way through the crowd of rubberneckers, using her elbows to clear a path. People quickly got out of her way. Her grandfather and Teaneck followed in her wake, muttering apologies and glancing over their shoulders at the ongoing battle.
The electric halo around King Cog’s head flickered and sparked, spitting lightening at the floating Aero-Skull. If the bolts had any effect on the strange flying machine, no one could see. The grim vehicle began to circle the robot ape, vomiting fire at it.
King Cog reared up on its hind legs and pounded its chest. The onlookers shouted and covered their ears. Glass shattered beneath the sonic barrage. Nancy winced and covered her ears, staggering down the offramp toward the ground. Abruptly the entire Cloverleaf shuddered and shook, the concrete ramps cracking. Dust drifted down, peppering Nancy’s brown hair.
People were moving again, hurrying down the ramp after her. Nancy grabbed her grandfather’s hand in one of her own, and took Teaneck’s in the other. In the tight press of bodies, the last thing she wanted was to get separated from them. The crowd now stank of fear and sweat. It moved like a living thing and Nancy was absorbed into it, just a cell in the mob.
At the bottom of the Cloverleaf stood a shantytown of cardboard boxes and crude tin structures. The frightened mob scattered, while the homeless sat in their squalor and watched with numbed, soulless eyes.
Their little group rested at the edge of the camp, to let the crowds disperse and to catch their breaths. The Cloverleaf rocked and swayed above their heads.
“Do you think it’ll hold?” asked Nancy.
Her grandfather shrugged, but one of the homeless, a big-boned woman with a mane of unkempt brown hair, laughed.
“Don’t you worry, missy! It’ll hold just fine! Built after the War and it’ll take more than some blasted clockwork monkey to bring it down!”
Above their heads, the Cloverleaf swayed and groaned again. A wedge of concrete fell from the elevated roadway to land somewhere in the cardboard camp. There was a crash of tin and a woman began to scream. It was a horrible sound, the shrill soul-destroying wail of someone whose entire world had suddenly ended.
“We need to move,” said Nancy. She turned her back on the homeless camp and marched away.
“Nancy, we should see if we can help,” said Milton. “Someone’s been hurt . . . ”
“No,” said Nancy. “If they’re stupid enough to stay under the Cloverleaf when it’s shaking like a leaf and falling around them, the idiots deserve whatever they get. No wonder they’re homeless! Now come on!”
She tugged on his arm, pulling him reluctantly away from the camp and the unseen, screaming woman. Reluctantly, Teaneck and Milton followed Nancy, out from under the Cloverleaf, onto the potholed streets of Steelbridge itself. Overhead, the sky was turning black with the promise of a storm.
They joined a group of commuters huddling in the shadow of a dilapidated building. A scrawny child in ragged clothes sat in the doorway, watching the strangers with cold, calculating eyes. Her gaze fell on Nancy, who glared at the urchin until she looked away.
“Great Scott,” muttered Milton Van Sloan. “Teaneck, do you know what this building is?”
Nancy glanced at her grandfather, saw him standing on the sidewalk, head bent back, staring at the building above them. Teaneck frowned and scratched his head. Both men had made their atom-guns vanish somewhere about their persons.
“Can’t say that I do, sir.”
“It’s the old Jubilee Hotel,” said Milton. “Penelope Madoc had her wedding party here. Remember?”
“Vaguely, sir.”
“I remember it like yesterday.” Milton peered around him. “This is English Street. The Gypsy Theater used to be around the corner. I suppose you remember that, Teaneck.”
“Hard to forget the Gypsy, sir. Lovely girls they had there.”
“Do you think we’ll be safe here?” a woman in a bright yellow dress asked. She was looking around, nervously.
“Safer than on the Cloverleaf, madame,” said Milton. “I’m sure the League will see that robot menace off, any minute now.”
“What I want to know is how a giant robot ape gets about the city without anyone noticing?” said Nancy.
“It uses the old tube system.”
Nancy turned, frowning, saw that the speaker appeared to be a girl of about thirteen or so. She was very pale, with black hair and a slight Asiatic cast to her features. She wore a black dress, in a rather fetchingly archaic style. A tall, gloomy looking man stood behind her, holding an umbrella over the girl’s head.
“Don’t be silly,” said Nancy. “The robot is far too large to use the tube system.”
“Now it is,” said the girl. “But when it started out, it was much smaller. About the size of a toy, I should say.”
“And you know this how?” asked Nancy.
The girl titled her head and smiled very faintly. “Because I’ve seen it. King Cog uses an aggregate field to collect additional mass into itself that it uses to grow. If you think about it, it’s actually rather clever.”
“You can’t know any such thing,” sniffed Nancy. “You’re just making things up.”
The girl shrugged and gestured at her companion. They drifted away from the group, strolling down the street. Her silver buttons glittered in the growing dark.
“Miss, I don’t think you should wander around this neighborhood,” a man in a business suit called.
The girl stopped, turned and smiled at the mob. “Why not? I live here.”
Then she turned her back on them and, accompanied by her companion, continued on her way. Nancy saw Teaneck frowning and scratching his chin.
“Queer girl,” someone said.
“I swear I’ve seen her before,” muttered the chauffeur. “But I can’t think where.”
Suddenly, the air was split by a deafening roar. People screamed and fell to the street, clutching their ears. Nancy staggered, would have fallen if her grandfather hadn’t reached out and gripped her arm. Carefully, he helped her sit on the cracked sidewalk, then joined her.
“What was that?” she shouted. Her ears were ringing and she could barely hear her own voice.
“I think it must have been King Cog!” shouted her grandfather. “I think the League must have won!”
The crowd waited. While they did, the storm clouds overhead began to drift apart. A hospital zeppelin soared across the sky, flashing red lights. It was accompanied by four small aircraft with police markings.
“Looks like the police have finally shown up,” said Nancy. “Do you think it’s safe to go back to the car?”
As if on cue, one of the police biplanes broke away from the hospital zeppelin and circled the Cloverleaf. It dipped low and the crowd heard a tinny voice advising motorists to return to their vehicles.
“Well,” said Milton, “that answers that question.” He stood and helped Nancy stand.
The crowd was already hurrying back toward the Cloverleaf’s ramp, eager to put the day’s events behind them. The Van Sloans and Teaneck followed at a more sedate pace. They passed the homeless camp where the big woman waved at them and laughed.
They trudged up the concrete ramp, back to the limo. As they passed other cars, they saw that most of them had shattered windows. So, when they arrived at the limo, they were not surprised to see their own windows reduced to glass shards. They brushed the glass off the seats and slid inside the vehicle. Around them, engines coughed to life. The limo started with a refined purr.
In the distance, the Aero-Skull of the League of Adventurers floated above the smoking remnants of the giant mechanical ape. The hospital zeppelin hung nearby, tethered to the ground, vacuum tubes descending from its belly to suck up the injured. Police biplanes circled the scene, reminding Nancy of vultures.
Teaneck switched on the car radio and they listened to a newscaster recount the battle between the League of Adventurers and the latest incarnation of King Cog. Soon enough though, beautiful music filled the car again, a harpist accompanying a shrill-voiced harridan. At least, that’s what it sounded like to Nancy.
Traffic began to crawl forward and, soon enough, they were free of the Cloverleaf’s infamous grasp. Teaneck turned the limo west and south, detouring around the battle site, and crossing the Holmes Street Bridge into Hollow’s End. Here, the traffic dropped away to a few other cars chugging down tree-lined streets, heading for the western hinterlands of the city.
Soon enough, the limo was pulling through the wrought-iron gates of the Van Sloan Estate. Teaneck parked the limo on the gravel path, but before he could get out to open the rear door, Alroy the butler had emerged from the house and beaten him to it. At the top of the steps, standing by the front door, wringing her hands was Alroy’s wife, Mrs. McKenny.
“Oh thank the saints yer well, Mr. Van Sloan!” gushed Mrs. McKenny. “We heard about the troubles in the city and just knew you were caught up in it!”
“We’re all fine, Mrs. McKenny,” said Milton. “No need to worry yourself any longer.”
“But, sir! Miss Bianca is still out!”
Nancy chuckled. “I wouldn’t worry about my cousin, Mrs. McKenny. She’s got the luck of the devil. Chances are she’s probably tucked up in some bar somewhere and doesn’t even know anything’s amiss.”
“Ooh! I do hope you’re right, miss!” Mrs. McKenny dabbed at her eyes with a lace handkerchief.
“Now, now, Mrs. McKenny,” said Milton. “No more tears. I’m sure Bianca is fine. In the meantime, please have supper sent up to the library.”
The housekeeper nodded and curtsied. “Yes, sir. Will Miss Van Sloan be joining ye?”
“Yes,” said Milton. “My granddaughter will be staying the night.”
“Grandfather . . . ”
“No arguments, Nancy. Traffic will be a mess all evening. I’ll have Teaneck drive you home tomorrow morning.”
Nancy sighed, but knew better than to argue with the old man when he used that tone. “All right, grandfather. Since you insist.”
“I’ll have Gretel prepare a room, miss,” said Mrs. McKenny. With a final bob, she vanished into the house to see to the preparations.
Teaneck meanwhile had vanished with the limo, leaving Alroy to hover solicitously by his employer. Milton produced his atom-gun and handed it to the startled butler.
“See to it that this is locked away, Alroy.”
Alroy handled the gun as if it were a bomb that would explode at any moment. “Of course, sir.” He bowed and hurried away.
“Really, grandfather,” murmured Nancy. “I don’t know why you keep half these people on the staff. Teaneck is bad enough, but the McKennys . . . ”
“Are good people,” said Milton. “And loyal to a fault. That’s a rare combination to find these days, Nancy.”
“You know, you wouldn’t need all this staff if you moved into the city proper. There are some perfectly lovely homes for sale in Foundry Hills.”
Milton sniffed. “Shoeboxes, my dear. A man needs room to breathe and stretch!”
Nancy rolled her eyes and slid her arm through her grandfather’s. “Hardly shoeboxes, grandfather. And if you wanted spacious, there are some nice estates. . . .”
“I’m very happy where I am, my dear,” said Milton. “I was born on the estate and I plan to die here. So, let’s drop this matter and go upstairs. Mrs. McKenny will have supper sent up soon and I’d like to listen to the news.”
She shrugged and they ascended. Van Sloan Manor was a great, dark cavern of a house, built at the turn of the century in the antebellum style that had been popular at the time. Personally, Nancy didn’t care for the place. It had a haunted atmosphere about it that made her uneasy, which made her angry. The more time she spent there, the more her stomach twisted into knots. She much preferred her cozy, modern apartment in Skyline City.
But if there was one thing she did like about Van Sloan Manor, it was her grandfather’s library. It was an immense room, occupying the entire east wing of the second floor. Paneled in golden oak, the shelves were filled with rare and beautiful first editions. In addition to the books, there were glass display cases containing souvenirs from her grandfather’s adventures as a young man. Pride of place was given to the skull of an African Tyrannosaurus Rex, suspended by wires from the ceiling. Her grandfather had killed the beast when he was barely twenty-three.
As Nancy settled into an overstuffed chair, a footman rushed into the room and started a fire in the nearby fireplace. Her grandfather fiddled with the radio, spinning through the frequencies until he found one of the news channels. Soon afterwards, Alroy appeared, pushing a cart laden with covered dishes. The footman reappeared, carrying a compact folding table that he proceeded to set up. He was accompanied by one of the maids, burdened with table linens.
By the time the table was set up, the dishes had cooled enough to be comfortably eaten. Mrs. McKenny had prepared a spicy fish stew, served with fresh baked bread and a medley of steamed vegetables. For desert there was cheesecake, drizzled with strawberry syrup. Alroy produced a splendid bottle of wine for the meal and a delectable brandy to accompany the desert. The servants vanished as quickly and efficiently as they had appeared.
“I may have to rethink my opinion of your staff, grandfather,” said Nancy, after the supper had been consumed and cleared away.
Milton Van Sloan smiled and leaned back in his chair. There had been no new information regarding King Cog, and he had switched the radio to one of the music channels he loved. Beethoven wafted from the speakers. In the distance, a clock struck the hour and Nancy realized it was after midnight. She was about to say goodnight and retreat to her bed when the library doors opened and her cousin walked into the room.
A casual observer would never have thought Bianca Van Sloan could be related to Nancy. Where Nancy was plain, Bianca was a ravishing beauty. She had ebon hair that fell around a pretty, heart-shaped face with warm brown eyes and full, sensuous lips. Her figure was athletic, with cocoa-colored skin and generous curves that Bianca used to full effect. Tonight, she wore a slinky Chinese gown of iridescent green silk, slit up the side to her thighs to show off a generous portion of lean, muscled leg. She wore candy apple red heels and crimson opera gloves. Her face was carefully made up, and jade arrowheads dangled from her earlobes. Bianca Van Sloan was about as subtle as a sledgehammer and oozed sex appeal.
“Hello, grandfather! I’m home!”
Milton Van Sloan smiled. “Hello, Bianca. How was your evening?”
“Frightfully boring,” she said. Her gaze fell on Nancy. “Hello, cousin. What are you doing here?”
“Nancy is staying the night,” said Milton. “Until they get the roads sorted out from this afternoon’s mess.”
“Oh. That nonsense with the robot ape.” Bianca rolled her eyes. “How stupid! Who would build a robot ape?” She grinned. “It would be much more fun to build a robot man!”
Nancy snorted. “And where have you been all this time, cousin?”
“One of Celeste Wellborne’s odious parties,” said Bianca. “Really, I don’t know why I bothered to go. The woman has the most appalling taste!”
Nancy eyed her cousin’s attire and pursed her lips. “What did she do this time?”
“Oh, please, Nancy! Don’t make me repeat it, it was ghastly enough experiencing it! I certainly don’t want to recall it.”
Shrugging, Nancy stood. “Well, it’s late and I’m going to bed. I think it’ll be a long trek home tomorrow morning.” She went to her grandfather, bent over and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll see you in the morning, grandfather.” She nodded at Bianca. “Cousin.”
“Sweet dreams,” said Bianca, flashing a gorgeous smile.
Nancy did not return it, she simply left the library. As soon as the door had shut behind her cousin, Bianca sighed and sank into the vacant chair. She winced slightly and shifted her position.
“You had a difficult time tonight?” Milton asked, lightly.
Bianca snorted and tugged off one of her opera gloves. Beneath the scarlet fabric, her arm was marred by a ghastly greenish-yellow bruise. “If we ever catch the bastard who built King Cog, I’m going to beat him black and blue!”
Milton wagged a finger at his granddaughter. “Language.”
“Sorry, grandfather.” Bianca sighed and pulled off her other glove. “But, yes, it wasn’t easy stopping that blasted robot this time. It had an electro-shield.”
“But you beat it.”
“Yes, but it gets more difficult each time,” said Bianca.
“Was anyone hurt?”
“No. We got knocked around like a pinata, but bruises were the worst of it.”
“Should I call Teaneck?” asked Milton. He nodded at her arm. “That looks painful.”
“I’ve had worse.”
“Don’t remind me,” said Milton. “Sometimes, I really wish you were more like your cousin.”
“Soulless?”
Milton frowned. “You judge her too harshly, Bianca.”
Bianca sighed and lowered her head. “You’re right, grandfather. I’m sorry. It’s not Nancy’s fault she’s so hardhearted.” She scowled. “That’s all her mother’s doing.”
“I can’t argue with that,” said the old man. “That woman. I don’t know what your Uncle Thomas saw in her.”
“I can guess,” said Bianca, darkly. “She had just better not show her face around here again or she might get an unpleasant visit from Madame Phantom.”
“Granddaughter, you know we do not use our gifts for petty revenge,” chided Milton.
“I know, I know.” Sighing, Bianca slid down in the chair. “I feel like I could sleep for a week.”
Milton smiled. “Why don’t you? It wouldn’t exactly be out of character.”
His granddaughter sighed. “Thesalina says the Great Red Spot is stirring.”
“Something has disturbed the Jovians?”
Bianca shrugged. “Who can say? But the League is meeting tomorrow night to discuss it, and I have to attend.”
“Sometimes, my dear, I think you take too much on yourself.”
“It must be something I inherited from you, grandfather.”
Milton snorted, but reached across the way and took Bianca’s hand. “You’ll be careful.”
“Always.”
He nodded, stood, and kissed her cheek. “I’m off to bed then. Goodnight, Bianca. Try to get some rest.”
She smiled at him and nodded. “I will. Goodnight, grandfather. Sweet dreams.”
He shuffled out of the library, leaving Bianca alone. She rose and switched off the radio, preferring the silence. The fire sputtered and faded. In the growing gloom, she sat and stared, blindly, at the dinosaur skull. It gleamed faintly in the dark.
She snorted suddenly and stood. “I suppose we should be lucky no one has built a giant robot dinosaur.”
The thought made her wince and rub her bruised arm.
“Yet.”
Then she hoped she hadn’t just jinxed them all.
KING COG
“I remember when Steelbridge used to be a nice place to live.”
Nancy Van Sloan glanced at her grandfather and sighed. Looking out the tinted window of the limo, all she could see was the snarl of traffic, cars packed bumper to bumper on the Cloverleaf.
“This neighborhood used to be fashionable,” said Milton Van Sloan. “Now look at it. Nothing but rundown tenements and liquor stores.”
“I don’t know why you insisted on coming this way, grandfather,” complained Nancy. “You know what the traffic is like.”
Milton Van Sloan grunted and patted her knee. “Maybe because this is the only time we ever get to spend together, Nancy.”
She looked at the old man and felt an infuriating mix of affection and annoyance. Milton Van Sloan was ancient, a stick figure of a man with more money than God and an inexplicable blind spot toward his granddaughter’s faults.
“If you want to spend more time with me, grandfather, we could do it at the club or a nice restaurant. You don’t have to get us stuck in commuter hell if you want to see me.”
“Ah, but this way I get your undivided attention,” said Milton. “If we were out, I’d have to compete with all the young men.”
Not likely, thought Nancy. She was plain as brown paper and knew it. The only men who ever approached her were usually more interested in her trust fund than her. Not that Nancy didn’t know how to use those fellows, to ring every drop of amusement from them that she could. She might have been plain as brown paper, but she had a mind like a steel trap and a heart like flint.
And somehow, none of this registered on her grandfather. He thought she was a sweet, pretty girl. The kind with suitors lining up outside her door. If she didn’t know better, Nancy might have thought the old man had popped his clogs.
“Grandfather, you know I’d be perfectly happy to come over to the house,” said Nancy. “We could have a nice dinner and listen to the radio.”
“I’ll bear that in mind, next time,” said Milton. He glanced out the window and frowned. “Teaneck, turn on the radio.”
In the front seat, the ancient chauffeur switched on the radio. The plucking of harp strings filled the limo. Nancy shifted, wishing her grandfather had more modern tastes in music. Swing would have been ideal, or even a little bump-n-grind, but so-called ‘beautiful music’ set her teeth on edge.
The harpist finished and the announcer began to read the latest news. Nancy listened with half an ear. The Spirit of Lindbergh had completed its circumnavigation of the world and returned to Atlanta. Canadian authorities had arrested three hundred Americans, working illegally in the country, and would be deported them back to the States within the week. President Bach was still at loggerheads with Congress over the Social Security Liquidation Act and more survivors had crawled out of the glowing wreckage of Houston.
“I don’t know why they bother reporting that drivel,” sniffed Nancy. “They should just shoot the traitors and be done with it.”
“Now, now, Nancy. A truly great nation is merciful in its victories.”
She sighed and leaned back, paying more attention now as the announcer began to report the financial news. Under President Bach’s stern reforms, the stock market was starting to show clear signs of recovery. They weren’t out of the depression yet, but most financial analysts agreed that the country was well on the way to economic recovery.
“I wonder if they’re including Texas in that,” mused Nancy.
Milton shook his head, but she thought he might have been secretly amused by her comment. Abruptly, the radio erupted into static.
“Teaneck,” prompted Milton.
The ancient man fiddled with the reception. “I’m sorry, sir. Whatever it is, it seems to be affecting all the channels.”
Suddenly, the car shook, throwing all three occupants about.
“What on earth is going on?” demanded Milton Van Sloan. He clutched Nancy’s hand, even as she turned and peered out the window. The car shook again and Nancy realized it wasn’t just their vehicle, but every vehicle. In fact, it seemed as if the entire Cloverleaf was rocking and buckling.
In the distance, she saw something move. She rolled down the window and looked out, saw a colossal figure, moving in the distance. Nancy stared, taking in the apelike features cast in steel, the electric halo visible about the gigantic robot ape’s head.
“What is it, Nancy?” Her grandfather demanded. “What do you see?”
She shrank back, away from the window. “It’s King Cog.”
Her grandfather looked appalled. “Is it heading this way?”
“I don’t know,” said Nancy, softly. “I couldn’t tell.”
There were screams and cries of alarm coming from outside. People were abandoning their cars, rushing away from the monstrous robot. Nancy reached for the door and opened it.
“Nancy, what are you doing?”
“We can’t stay here, grandfather. If King Cog comes here the entire Cloverleaf might collapse.”
“The young lady is right, sir,” said Teaneck. He had already opened his door. “We need to get to safety.”
Milton nodded. “Very well. Teaneck, you’re armed?”
“Always, sir.”
“Excellent,” said Milton. “You take the point. I shall stay with Nancy.”
The ancient chauffeur nodded, smiling. “It’ll be just like old times, sir.”
“Ah! The Lost City of the Azca!”
“Hopefully better than that, sir,” chided Teaneck. He had climbed out of the car, moving with surprising agility for such an elderly fellow. In one hand, Nancy saw that the driver carried an atom-gun.
The Cloverleaf shuddered again and Nancy slid out of the car. King Cog was closer now, definitely moving toward the Cloverleaf. She turned and helped her grandfather out of the car. Milton Van Sloan had wrapped his scarf around his thin neck and produced an atom-gun of his own. Nancy glanced at him. He smiled, wryly.
“I’ve learned, dear, to always prepare for the worst.” Grabbing her arm, the little group began to move, threading their way through the stopped cars. A man in a business suit rushed past them, clutching a briefcase to his chest. A grim faced older lady, wearing an impressive hat, stalked past, thundering, “Where the hell are the police?”
“That’s a damn fine question,” muttered Milton.
“I don’t think we’ll need the police, grandfather,” said Nancy. “Look! Up in the sky!”
Above the head of the robot ape, a great silver skull had appeared. It was wreathed in green light. As the trio watched, the skull’s mouth opened and a jet of flame erupted from its bony maw. It struck King Cog and the air filled with the hiss and sizzle of metal melting.
“That’s the Aero-Skull!” someone shouted.
“It’s the League of Adventurers!”
Nancy turned, saw that many of the people who had been fleeing the elevated highway before had paused, to gawk at the conflict. She scowled at them, and turned her back on the fight, pulling her grandfather with her.
“Come along, grandfather! It’s still not safe!” She turned, frowning at the chauffeur. “You too, Teaneck!”
She bulled her way through the crowd of rubberneckers, using her elbows to clear a path. People quickly got out of her way. Her grandfather and Teaneck followed in her wake, muttering apologies and glancing over their shoulders at the ongoing battle.
The electric halo around King Cog’s head flickered and sparked, spitting lightening at the floating Aero-Skull. If the bolts had any effect on the strange flying machine, no one could see. The grim vehicle began to circle the robot ape, vomiting fire at it.
King Cog reared up on its hind legs and pounded its chest. The onlookers shouted and covered their ears. Glass shattered beneath the sonic barrage. Nancy winced and covered her ears, staggering down the offramp toward the ground. Abruptly the entire Cloverleaf shuddered and shook, the concrete ramps cracking. Dust drifted down, peppering Nancy’s brown hair.
People were moving again, hurrying down the ramp after her. Nancy grabbed her grandfather’s hand in one of her own, and took Teaneck’s in the other. In the tight press of bodies, the last thing she wanted was to get separated from them. The crowd now stank of fear and sweat. It moved like a living thing and Nancy was absorbed into it, just a cell in the mob.
At the bottom of the Cloverleaf stood a shantytown of cardboard boxes and crude tin structures. The frightened mob scattered, while the homeless sat in their squalor and watched with numbed, soulless eyes.
Their little group rested at the edge of the camp, to let the crowds disperse and to catch their breaths. The Cloverleaf rocked and swayed above their heads.
“Do you think it’ll hold?” asked Nancy.
Her grandfather shrugged, but one of the homeless, a big-boned woman with a mane of unkempt brown hair, laughed.
“Don’t you worry, missy! It’ll hold just fine! Built after the War and it’ll take more than some blasted clockwork monkey to bring it down!”
Above their heads, the Cloverleaf swayed and groaned again. A wedge of concrete fell from the elevated roadway to land somewhere in the cardboard camp. There was a crash of tin and a woman began to scream. It was a horrible sound, the shrill soul-destroying wail of someone whose entire world had suddenly ended.
“We need to move,” said Nancy. She turned her back on the homeless camp and marched away.
“Nancy, we should see if we can help,” said Milton. “Someone’s been hurt . . . ”
“No,” said Nancy. “If they’re stupid enough to stay under the Cloverleaf when it’s shaking like a leaf and falling around them, the idiots deserve whatever they get. No wonder they’re homeless! Now come on!”
She tugged on his arm, pulling him reluctantly away from the camp and the unseen, screaming woman. Reluctantly, Teaneck and Milton followed Nancy, out from under the Cloverleaf, onto the potholed streets of Steelbridge itself. Overhead, the sky was turning black with the promise of a storm.
They joined a group of commuters huddling in the shadow of a dilapidated building. A scrawny child in ragged clothes sat in the doorway, watching the strangers with cold, calculating eyes. Her gaze fell on Nancy, who glared at the urchin until she looked away.
“Great Scott,” muttered Milton Van Sloan. “Teaneck, do you know what this building is?”
Nancy glanced at her grandfather, saw him standing on the sidewalk, head bent back, staring at the building above them. Teaneck frowned and scratched his head. Both men had made their atom-guns vanish somewhere about their persons.
“Can’t say that I do, sir.”
“It’s the old Jubilee Hotel,” said Milton. “Penelope Madoc had her wedding party here. Remember?”
“Vaguely, sir.”
“I remember it like yesterday.” Milton peered around him. “This is English Street. The Gypsy Theater used to be around the corner. I suppose you remember that, Teaneck.”
“Hard to forget the Gypsy, sir. Lovely girls they had there.”
“Do you think we’ll be safe here?” a woman in a bright yellow dress asked. She was looking around, nervously.
“Safer than on the Cloverleaf, madame,” said Milton. “I’m sure the League will see that robot menace off, any minute now.”
“What I want to know is how a giant robot ape gets about the city without anyone noticing?” said Nancy.
“It uses the old tube system.”
Nancy turned, frowning, saw that the speaker appeared to be a girl of about thirteen or so. She was very pale, with black hair and a slight Asiatic cast to her features. She wore a black dress, in a rather fetchingly archaic style. A tall, gloomy looking man stood behind her, holding an umbrella over the girl’s head.
“Don’t be silly,” said Nancy. “The robot is far too large to use the tube system.”
“Now it is,” said the girl. “But when it started out, it was much smaller. About the size of a toy, I should say.”
“And you know this how?” asked Nancy.
The girl titled her head and smiled very faintly. “Because I’ve seen it. King Cog uses an aggregate field to collect additional mass into itself that it uses to grow. If you think about it, it’s actually rather clever.”
“You can’t know any such thing,” sniffed Nancy. “You’re just making things up.”
The girl shrugged and gestured at her companion. They drifted away from the group, strolling down the street. Her silver buttons glittered in the growing dark.
“Miss, I don’t think you should wander around this neighborhood,” a man in a business suit called.
The girl stopped, turned and smiled at the mob. “Why not? I live here.”
Then she turned her back on them and, accompanied by her companion, continued on her way. Nancy saw Teaneck frowning and scratching his chin.
“Queer girl,” someone said.
“I swear I’ve seen her before,” muttered the chauffeur. “But I can’t think where.”
Suddenly, the air was split by a deafening roar. People screamed and fell to the street, clutching their ears. Nancy staggered, would have fallen if her grandfather hadn’t reached out and gripped her arm. Carefully, he helped her sit on the cracked sidewalk, then joined her.
“What was that?” she shouted. Her ears were ringing and she could barely hear her own voice.
“I think it must have been King Cog!” shouted her grandfather. “I think the League must have won!”
The crowd waited. While they did, the storm clouds overhead began to drift apart. A hospital zeppelin soared across the sky, flashing red lights. It was accompanied by four small aircraft with police markings.
“Looks like the police have finally shown up,” said Nancy. “Do you think it’s safe to go back to the car?”
As if on cue, one of the police biplanes broke away from the hospital zeppelin and circled the Cloverleaf. It dipped low and the crowd heard a tinny voice advising motorists to return to their vehicles.
“Well,” said Milton, “that answers that question.” He stood and helped Nancy stand.
The crowd was already hurrying back toward the Cloverleaf’s ramp, eager to put the day’s events behind them. The Van Sloans and Teaneck followed at a more sedate pace. They passed the homeless camp where the big woman waved at them and laughed.
They trudged up the concrete ramp, back to the limo. As they passed other cars, they saw that most of them had shattered windows. So, when they arrived at the limo, they were not surprised to see their own windows reduced to glass shards. They brushed the glass off the seats and slid inside the vehicle. Around them, engines coughed to life. The limo started with a refined purr.
In the distance, the Aero-Skull of the League of Adventurers floated above the smoking remnants of the giant mechanical ape. The hospital zeppelin hung nearby, tethered to the ground, vacuum tubes descending from its belly to suck up the injured. Police biplanes circled the scene, reminding Nancy of vultures.
Teaneck switched on the car radio and they listened to a newscaster recount the battle between the League of Adventurers and the latest incarnation of King Cog. Soon enough though, beautiful music filled the car again, a harpist accompanying a shrill-voiced harridan. At least, that’s what it sounded like to Nancy.
Traffic began to crawl forward and, soon enough, they were free of the Cloverleaf’s infamous grasp. Teaneck turned the limo west and south, detouring around the battle site, and crossing the Holmes Street Bridge into Hollow’s End. Here, the traffic dropped away to a few other cars chugging down tree-lined streets, heading for the western hinterlands of the city.
Soon enough, the limo was pulling through the wrought-iron gates of the Van Sloan Estate. Teaneck parked the limo on the gravel path, but before he could get out to open the rear door, Alroy the butler had emerged from the house and beaten him to it. At the top of the steps, standing by the front door, wringing her hands was Alroy’s wife, Mrs. McKenny.
“Oh thank the saints yer well, Mr. Van Sloan!” gushed Mrs. McKenny. “We heard about the troubles in the city and just knew you were caught up in it!”
“We’re all fine, Mrs. McKenny,” said Milton. “No need to worry yourself any longer.”
“But, sir! Miss Bianca is still out!”
Nancy chuckled. “I wouldn’t worry about my cousin, Mrs. McKenny. She’s got the luck of the devil. Chances are she’s probably tucked up in some bar somewhere and doesn’t even know anything’s amiss.”
“Ooh! I do hope you’re right, miss!” Mrs. McKenny dabbed at her eyes with a lace handkerchief.
“Now, now, Mrs. McKenny,” said Milton. “No more tears. I’m sure Bianca is fine. In the meantime, please have supper sent up to the library.”
The housekeeper nodded and curtsied. “Yes, sir. Will Miss Van Sloan be joining ye?”
“Yes,” said Milton. “My granddaughter will be staying the night.”
“Grandfather . . . ”
“No arguments, Nancy. Traffic will be a mess all evening. I’ll have Teaneck drive you home tomorrow morning.”
Nancy sighed, but knew better than to argue with the old man when he used that tone. “All right, grandfather. Since you insist.”
“I’ll have Gretel prepare a room, miss,” said Mrs. McKenny. With a final bob, she vanished into the house to see to the preparations.
Teaneck meanwhile had vanished with the limo, leaving Alroy to hover solicitously by his employer. Milton produced his atom-gun and handed it to the startled butler.
“See to it that this is locked away, Alroy.”
Alroy handled the gun as if it were a bomb that would explode at any moment. “Of course, sir.” He bowed and hurried away.
“Really, grandfather,” murmured Nancy. “I don’t know why you keep half these people on the staff. Teaneck is bad enough, but the McKennys . . . ”
“Are good people,” said Milton. “And loyal to a fault. That’s a rare combination to find these days, Nancy.”
“You know, you wouldn’t need all this staff if you moved into the city proper. There are some perfectly lovely homes for sale in Foundry Hills.”
Milton sniffed. “Shoeboxes, my dear. A man needs room to breathe and stretch!”
Nancy rolled her eyes and slid her arm through her grandfather’s. “Hardly shoeboxes, grandfather. And if you wanted spacious, there are some nice estates. . . .”
“I’m very happy where I am, my dear,” said Milton. “I was born on the estate and I plan to die here. So, let’s drop this matter and go upstairs. Mrs. McKenny will have supper sent up soon and I’d like to listen to the news.”
She shrugged and they ascended. Van Sloan Manor was a great, dark cavern of a house, built at the turn of the century in the antebellum style that had been popular at the time. Personally, Nancy didn’t care for the place. It had a haunted atmosphere about it that made her uneasy, which made her angry. The more time she spent there, the more her stomach twisted into knots. She much preferred her cozy, modern apartment in Skyline City.
But if there was one thing she did like about Van Sloan Manor, it was her grandfather’s library. It was an immense room, occupying the entire east wing of the second floor. Paneled in golden oak, the shelves were filled with rare and beautiful first editions. In addition to the books, there were glass display cases containing souvenirs from her grandfather’s adventures as a young man. Pride of place was given to the skull of an African Tyrannosaurus Rex, suspended by wires from the ceiling. Her grandfather had killed the beast when he was barely twenty-three.
As Nancy settled into an overstuffed chair, a footman rushed into the room and started a fire in the nearby fireplace. Her grandfather fiddled with the radio, spinning through the frequencies until he found one of the news channels. Soon afterwards, Alroy appeared, pushing a cart laden with covered dishes. The footman reappeared, carrying a compact folding table that he proceeded to set up. He was accompanied by one of the maids, burdened with table linens.
By the time the table was set up, the dishes had cooled enough to be comfortably eaten. Mrs. McKenny had prepared a spicy fish stew, served with fresh baked bread and a medley of steamed vegetables. For desert there was cheesecake, drizzled with strawberry syrup. Alroy produced a splendid bottle of wine for the meal and a delectable brandy to accompany the desert. The servants vanished as quickly and efficiently as they had appeared.
“I may have to rethink my opinion of your staff, grandfather,” said Nancy, after the supper had been consumed and cleared away.
Milton Van Sloan smiled and leaned back in his chair. There had been no new information regarding King Cog, and he had switched the radio to one of the music channels he loved. Beethoven wafted from the speakers. In the distance, a clock struck the hour and Nancy realized it was after midnight. She was about to say goodnight and retreat to her bed when the library doors opened and her cousin walked into the room.
A casual observer would never have thought Bianca Van Sloan could be related to Nancy. Where Nancy was plain, Bianca was a ravishing beauty. She had ebon hair that fell around a pretty, heart-shaped face with warm brown eyes and full, sensuous lips. Her figure was athletic, with cocoa-colored skin and generous curves that Bianca used to full effect. Tonight, she wore a slinky Chinese gown of iridescent green silk, slit up the side to her thighs to show off a generous portion of lean, muscled leg. She wore candy apple red heels and crimson opera gloves. Her face was carefully made up, and jade arrowheads dangled from her earlobes. Bianca Van Sloan was about as subtle as a sledgehammer and oozed sex appeal.
“Hello, grandfather! I’m home!”
Milton Van Sloan smiled. “Hello, Bianca. How was your evening?”
“Frightfully boring,” she said. Her gaze fell on Nancy. “Hello, cousin. What are you doing here?”
“Nancy is staying the night,” said Milton. “Until they get the roads sorted out from this afternoon’s mess.”
“Oh. That nonsense with the robot ape.” Bianca rolled her eyes. “How stupid! Who would build a robot ape?” She grinned. “It would be much more fun to build a robot man!”
Nancy snorted. “And where have you been all this time, cousin?”
“One of Celeste Wellborne’s odious parties,” said Bianca. “Really, I don’t know why I bothered to go. The woman has the most appalling taste!”
Nancy eyed her cousin’s attire and pursed her lips. “What did she do this time?”
“Oh, please, Nancy! Don’t make me repeat it, it was ghastly enough experiencing it! I certainly don’t want to recall it.”
Shrugging, Nancy stood. “Well, it’s late and I’m going to bed. I think it’ll be a long trek home tomorrow morning.” She went to her grandfather, bent over and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll see you in the morning, grandfather.” She nodded at Bianca. “Cousin.”
“Sweet dreams,” said Bianca, flashing a gorgeous smile.
Nancy did not return it, she simply left the library. As soon as the door had shut behind her cousin, Bianca sighed and sank into the vacant chair. She winced slightly and shifted her position.
“You had a difficult time tonight?” Milton asked, lightly.
Bianca snorted and tugged off one of her opera gloves. Beneath the scarlet fabric, her arm was marred by a ghastly greenish-yellow bruise. “If we ever catch the bastard who built King Cog, I’m going to beat him black and blue!”
Milton wagged a finger at his granddaughter. “Language.”
“Sorry, grandfather.” Bianca sighed and pulled off her other glove. “But, yes, it wasn’t easy stopping that blasted robot this time. It had an electro-shield.”
“But you beat it.”
“Yes, but it gets more difficult each time,” said Bianca.
“Was anyone hurt?”
“No. We got knocked around like a pinata, but bruises were the worst of it.”
“Should I call Teaneck?” asked Milton. He nodded at her arm. “That looks painful.”
“I’ve had worse.”
“Don’t remind me,” said Milton. “Sometimes, I really wish you were more like your cousin.”
“Soulless?”
Milton frowned. “You judge her too harshly, Bianca.”
Bianca sighed and lowered her head. “You’re right, grandfather. I’m sorry. It’s not Nancy’s fault she’s so hardhearted.” She scowled. “That’s all her mother’s doing.”
“I can’t argue with that,” said the old man. “That woman. I don’t know what your Uncle Thomas saw in her.”
“I can guess,” said Bianca, darkly. “She had just better not show her face around here again or she might get an unpleasant visit from Madame Phantom.”
“Granddaughter, you know we do not use our gifts for petty revenge,” chided Milton.
“I know, I know.” Sighing, Bianca slid down in the chair. “I feel like I could sleep for a week.”
Milton smiled. “Why don’t you? It wouldn’t exactly be out of character.”
His granddaughter sighed. “Thesalina says the Great Red Spot is stirring.”
“Something has disturbed the Jovians?”
Bianca shrugged. “Who can say? But the League is meeting tomorrow night to discuss it, and I have to attend.”
“Sometimes, my dear, I think you take too much on yourself.”
“It must be something I inherited from you, grandfather.”
Milton snorted, but reached across the way and took Bianca’s hand. “You’ll be careful.”
“Always.”
He nodded, stood, and kissed her cheek. “I’m off to bed then. Goodnight, Bianca. Try to get some rest.”
She smiled at him and nodded. “I will. Goodnight, grandfather. Sweet dreams.”
He shuffled out of the library, leaving Bianca alone. She rose and switched off the radio, preferring the silence. The fire sputtered and faded. In the growing gloom, she sat and stared, blindly, at the dinosaur skull. It gleamed faintly in the dark.
She snorted suddenly and stood. “I suppose we should be lucky no one has built a giant robot dinosaur.”
The thought made her wince and rub her bruised arm.
“Yet.”
Then she hoped she hadn’t just jinxed them all.
