Justin Stone and the Iris of the Madonna

[joegoda]

Outside the pawn shop door, the two stood casually against the wall. There was a bit of misty fog filling the narrow road. Far away, a clock rang, eleven times. The night filtered in cloudy starlight. There was no sight of the three men who had been in the roadway earlier.

"So...," Jonathan said quietly, "that was interesting." He was looking to the left, checking for any signs of movement. An intersection was half a block away, and at eleven in the evening, it was devoid of any sort of traffic.

"Yes." Justin nodded. He was watching the other direction. There were all sorts of hiding places. Trash bins, fire escapes, and doorways offered any number of places where a body could find a shadow. "I thought so."

"I didn't like that guy." Jonathan sounded put out and a bit hurt. "I think you should have let me talk to him a little stronger."

"Jonathan, that would have gotten us nowhere and the old man would have just closed up, and we would have gotten away with nothing." Justin tapped his brother's shoulder and nodded down the direction he was looking. There wasn't much to see, unless you noticed a small shadow that looked like all the other shadows, except that it was more rounded, less angular. And it moved, ever so slightly. "As it was, you did take your clue very well, and I was able to find out quite a bit."

Justin sighed. "I value for your mind, Jonathan. Granted, you are very strong and able to handle yourself around men twice your size, but still..." He gave his brother a quick smile, and nodded back the other way.

Jonathan looked back down the short block to the intersection. It seemed clear. He looked back at his brother and nodded. "Okay." He stepped out into the roadway, away from the storefront. He looked back, briefly, into the pawn shop and saw the old man hanging near the window, watching. Jonathan stuck his tongue out at the shopkeeper and casually started down the street to the left, toward the intersection.

"So, you didn't want me to... um... explain things to him. I can understand that. He'd have been no good broken."

"Yes...." Justin walked quietly beside his brother. "Besides, he knew you. And to be honest, Jonathan, you couldn't have intimidated him. He had suffered enough injury that you didn't scare him a bit. Physicality wouldn't have done the trick." He pulled the cigarette out of his pocket, lifted it up to his nose and sniffed it. "Hm."

"Yeah, okay." Jonathan nodded. "So you bought him."

"Yes." He examined the cigarette. "Definitely not local. I wonder what doctor Doyle would say about it."

"I wondered why you asked for a cigarette. You don't smoke." Jonathan glanced behind them. There were shadows behind them, hugging the wall. "We got company," he whispered.

"I was hoping so," Justin said. "That means they don't intend us any harm. They're just here to observe." He passed the cigarette to Jonathan. "Take a look at that, Jon. Tell me what you think."

Jonathan lifted the cigarette to his nose and sniffed. "Whew! Pretty pungent." He passed it back to Justin. "It's not any tobacco I know of."

Justin nodded. "Exactly. Did you notice the smell of the smoke in the pawn shop? I would be wiling to bet that this cigarette is laced with an opiate."

Jonathan shrugged. "I wouldn't know. But yeah, it did smell... odd. Sorta sweet, but not in a good way."

The two neared the intersection, and at the corner Justin stopped. "What did you make of what he said about the ring?"

"I thought that was pretty nifty the way you guessed about that." He gave a sideways look at Justin. "Uh, that was a guess, wasn't it?"

"Of course it was a guess." Justin smiled wanly. "An educated guess, but a guess was all it was. I imagined that a man who had gone to so much trouble attracting my attention would have a very large ego. Men with large egos wear distinctive rings."

"Yeah," Jonathan said. "That's what I thought to." He looked back over his shoulder and saw shadows melt into shadows. "Just here to observe, huh?" He looked at Justin. "Think they wanted us to go into the pawn shop?"

"Without a doubt, my dear Jonathan." Justin looked down the adjoining road. "To my thinking, they were like sheepdogs, making sure we, the sheep, went into the right pen. Of course that brings up all sorts of questions." He pursed his lips and brought his hand up to stroke his bottom lip. "I wonder how far it is to the monorail."

"I don't think it's running at this time of night, Justin," Jonathan said. "I'd say we're going to be walking until we can hail a cab."

The monorail routinely shut down for maintenance between the hours of eleven at night and four in the morning.

"Of course the monorail will run, Jon." Justin reached into his vest and pulled out a golden key that hung around his neck. "I have the key."

"Justin, you can't drive that thing," Jonathan snorted. "You have the mechanical ability of a drunk monkey."

"That's what I have you for." Justin gently cuffed Jonathan on the shoulder. "Which way to the station, Jonathan?"

Jonathan listened for a moment. He said it was one of his talents that he could hear the sound of electricity through the wires. He pointed to the right and said, "There may be a way station or a depot this way."

"And," Justin said as the two headed down the thoroughfare, "what did you think about the ring's inscription?"

The road they had turned down was wider, wide enough for two trolleys to pass by, and there were sidewalks on either side for pedestrians.

"I thought the description the old man gave was curious, Justin." Jonathan looked around.

There was still no one on the streets, but there were lights on in some of the apartments that lined the road. The Hallows were a small part of the city and thankfully, the pawn shop was just on the very outskirts of it.

Jonathan continued, "It was from the city of Graz, in Austria. It sounded a bit like the University signet, but I couldn't be sure. The word 'ehrenring' means 'ring of honor'. I've never heard of a 'ring of honor' before."

"Perhaps, when you get a chance, you might radio your good friend, Nikola," Justin suggested. "He attended Polytechnic there, didn't he?"

Jonathan nodded. "I was thinking that very thing, Justin."

The two walked a bit in silence, moving further away from the area known as the Hallows. Jonathan snuck a look over his shoulder, now and then, to see if the were still being followed. They were, but because there was more light here, from the windows on the second story lit with the late night thoughts of insomniacs to the more prevalent gas street lamps that appeared more regularly.

"I think we need to push the mayor a bit more to replace these old gas lamps with our electric ones," Jonathan said.

"Still back there, then," Justin asked.

Jonathan nodded. "So, if we were expected to go into the pawn shop, why would we believe anything the old man had to say?"

"Because, my dear Jonathan, he was paid to tell us the truth. Who ever gave him the package that cost poor Mister Hauptman his life also gave our pawn shop owner a hefty sum to tell us the truth. Or, at least the truth that he had been told to tell us."

"So, it really was a tall man?"

"I would say so, Jonathan, yes." Justin smiled and pointed to a wide steel stairway painted with a rust proof patina that spiraled two stories above them to stop at one of the many monorail platforms. He mounted the stairs easily.

Jonathan grumbled something about stair treads being designed by people six foot tall, and climbed up the stairway behind his brother. "How can you be sure," he asked. "And with a limp? That's a bit of a reach wasn't it?"

"Not really." Justin climbed easily, the years of exercise having given him massive lung capacity. He could hold his breath under water for over four minutes, and had climbed most of the world's peaks. "You saw the state of the pawnshop's floor, yes?"

"Yeah, it was filthy. It looked like nobody had swept that place for years."

"Months, at least," Justin agreed. "In fact, I don't think anyone but the shopkeep himself had been in there for quite a while before Hauptman showed up. It's my guess that a week ago, that pawnshop didn't exist there, and after tomorrow, it won't exist again."

"A fake shop?" Jonathan thought about it. "Almost makes sense, if this whole thing is just to get your attention." He pondered for a bit more, stopping at the first landing briefly.

He wasn't out of breath. Jonathan was looking for the signs of the shadows tailing them. There were there, at the very bottom of the stairs, hiding where the only thing that betrayed their existence was that the shadows they case were slightly darker than the shadows around them.

Justin had reached the level up above and called out. "Well? Are you going to lollygag about?"

"Be right up, Justin," Jonathan said. "Just stopped to tie my shoe."

Once at the top, Jonathan picked up the thread of conversation. "All right... so the shop may not have been a shop. But still, how did you know it was a tall man, with a limp?"

"Oh, please, Jonathan." Justin walked over to a small shed that sat off to one side of the monorail platform. "That was one detail that was obvious from the moment we arrived. There were two obvious sets of footprints in the dust on the floor. The newer ones could only have belonged to Hauptman. They had to be his, as the accumulation of dust was very light. Another set had been there a bit longer.

"One shoe print, the left, was distinct, but seemed a bit scuffed on the inside, as if the wearer of the shoe put more pressure on the inside of his sole. The right print was longer, more drug out. It was the dragging of the right shoe that indicated the weaker leg. The owner of that older set of prints had a gimp right leg, and walked with a limp."

"Well, yeah." Jonathan said, just a bit amazed. "Easy for you to see, eagle eye. I, on the other hand, was watching out the window for the terrible trio almost the whole time, while you danced with the legless man."

"It wasn't a dance, Jonathan," Justin sniffed. "It was a scuffle."

"Hard to be a scuffle when the other party hasn't got any legs to scuffle with."

"Petty, Jonathan." Justin searched the exterior of the shed for a certain spot. Once he had found it, he straightened, looked at his brother and repeated himself. "Petty."

"Yeah, well...," Jonathan pouted. "I wonder where that old guy had seen me before?"

"We may never know." Justin lifted a small panel and revealed a tiny hole. "I suspect that by tomorrow, he'll be long gone."

Unlike one of the main stations, this way station didn't sport any marble statues or fountains, or priceless bits of artwork. There were no fancy upholstered waiting rooms or a magazine stand nearby. This was just a tiny place, of wood and steel, with a wooden bench on which to wait for the train. Everything was painted the same mossy green of the rust proofing, so that little maintenance to the place was required.

The single rail, electrified to fifty thousand volts, ran like a silver ribbon from one point curving away to the distance to another point curving off to another point far away. Every thirty feet, the track the ribbon was tacked to was painted with a bright red lighting bolt and the words 'Death, stay away!'.

Justin removed the key from the chain around his neck and slipped it into a lock, hidden on the door to the shed. The shed had all the appearance of weathered wood, but in reality was made of solid steel. Anyone that attempted to break into the shed would be greatly disappointed.

Opening the door to the shed, Justin reached in a flipped a switch. A light flared on and the interior resolved into a spotless workshop of tools, wheels, gears and spare motors. There was also a vehicle comprised of a small platform with two seats, one in front of the other, on it. Behind and before the seats, bolted to the bottom of the fore and aft of the platform were two metal brackets. The short arms of the brackets pointed at the ground and the long base was attached to a long arm that ran the length of the platform.

To the left and right of the seats were large round basket shaped ducts. Each duct contained a small propeller, about three feet long. Each propeller was attached to a pulley, and the pulley was connected by a belt to an electric motor, which was also bolted to the center of the arm that ran down the length of the platform.

This was the 'rail runner', the vehicle that Jonathan had designed and constructed to be used to inspect the condition of the monorail that the train ran on. The brackets fit over the rail itself, and the propellers were used to provide the lift and propulsion for the vehicle.

There was a small canopy over the two seats, protecting the riders from rain, wind and the occasional bug or bird they might encounter. A small raised brass pedestal at the very front designated the fore seat as the driver and there was an instrument panel installed on the pedestal. There was a dial and a lever. The dial indicated speed, and the lever was for forward and backward motion. If it was in the center position, as it was now, the runner was stationary, with its ducting fans pointing straight down.

It weighed about eighty pounds.

"Give me a hand with this?" Justin raised an eyebrow towards Jonathan.

"Sure." Jonathan rubbed his hand, and pushed past his brother. He grabbed the runner by the console between the front and back seat and easily lifted it. He manhandled it through the door, nodding at Justin and saying with a smile, "I'm driving."

Justin smiled back, straightened his suit and said, "I'd have it no other way."

Comments

[capi.livejournal.com]

"Yeah," Jonathan said. "That's what I thought to." (( too ))
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"Without a doubt, my dear Jonathan." Justin looked down the adjoining road. "To my thinking, they were like sheepdogs, making sure we, the sheep, went into the right pen. Of course that brings up all sorts of questions.
(( word choice issue here... nothing crucial, but consider using the words Manner instead of Sorts ))
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"That's what I have you for." Justin gently cuffed Jonathan.....
(( again, word choice issue: consider using the word Lightly in place of Gently ))
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They were, but because there was more light here, from the windows on the second story lit with the late night thoughts of insomniacs to the more prevalent gas street lamps that appeared more regularly.
(( This sentence struck me as incomplete....))
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"Not really." Justin climbed easily, the years of exercise having given him...
(( "the" is an extra word here; no need for it, and it implies that we should know something that we do not know. I'd take it out.))
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"A fake shop?" Jonathan thought about it. "Almost makes sense, if this whole thing is just to get your attention." He pondered for a bit more, stopping at the first landing briefly. ((DANG, one elaborate set-up for such a brief need. The set up that metal elevator contraption and the rungs he swings himself around on and all that?? A LOT of hassle for one single week.... It COULD be done, but dang, wouldn't you rather just get a healthy pawnshop keeper for a gig like that? YEESH!))
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"Oh, please, Jonathan." Justin walked over to a small shed that sat off to one side of the monorail platform. "That was one detail that was obvious from the moment we arrived. There were two obvious sets of footprints in the dust on the floor. The newer ones could only have belonged to Hauptman. They had to be his, as the accumulation of dust was very light. Another set had been there a bit longer.

"One shoe print, the left, was distinct, but seemed a bit scuffed on the inside, as if the wearer of the shoe put more pressure on the inside of his sole. The right print was longer, more drug out. It was the dragging of the right shoe that indicated the weaker leg. The owner of that older set of prints had a gimp right leg, and walked with a limp."

Huh. His "oh please" struck me as slightly condescending in tone... not just entirely in keeping with Justin's character, altho a case could be made that he and Jon go back and forth playfully this way in their relationship. Still, it rubbed me just a little wrong. And the fact that he picked all this up inside a pawn shop after dark using only the light of his lantern without stooping to examine it, in passing, as it were... even a tracker would bend down for a closer look. This seems like really stretching things to me.
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Unlike one of the main stations, this way station didn't sport any marble statues or fountains, or priceless bits of artwork. There were no fancy upholstered waiting rooms or a magazine stand nearby.
(( This is awkward, grammatically. Try, perhaps ...or even a magazine stand, or... or even so much as a magazine stand, or something like that, eh?))
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Ah, now Pockets gets to play with his steam punk toys. *grins indulgently* *LOL*

[joegoda.livejournal.com]

Nicely done, Sis dear. I agree with all of it, and yes, I wondered at the rather elaborate lengths to go to create such an odd pawn shop. Still, this being a very rough story where I'm being more led by it than my leading it. All things are subject to change.

However, I think, and it's beginning to take shape, that the legless man is really required and the ruse was engineered to spark Justin's curiosity, rather than to give a more genuine appearance. I think it'll all be explained.

What I'm doing this time around is keeping all your comments until later. IF I decide this bit of fluff is worth re-writing, then I'll dig into them. You are my most favorite editor, dear one. Thank you so much for being!

[capi.livejournal.com]

Gawrsh..... *blush*

You do say the nicest things, lil' bro! ((( hugs ))) Thank YOU for being! Love you!

[joegoda.livejournal.com]

You know, as well, and better than some that I value the opinions of those I love very much. and I love very much those that I value the opinions of. You, lil Sis, are as much at fault for my finding characteristics in me that I'm just now starting to explore. I'm starting to have fun, sis. It's an odd feeling.

[capi.livejournal.com]

*unrepentant grin*