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“How many know that we’re here this morning?” Jack asked as the elevator began rising through the steel-framed tower. All around, the fairgrounds lay quiet and empty. Beyond, St. Louis looked as ragged and uninspiring as it did from the ground. It was nothing compared to New York, and thanks to the Society’s inability to protect the fair—and to stop Esta and Darrigan from stealing the necklace—it never would be.
Hendricks’ expression was like flint. “The bare minimum required, as you requested. They’re all trustworthy.”
“You’re sure?” Jack asked, eyeing Hendricks. “This project is of the utmost importance, and secrecy is a necessity.”
Hendricks glanced at Jack, a question in his eyes.
“By order of President Roosevelt himself, of course,” Jack said easily. It wasn’t a complete lie. Roosevelt had ordered him to take charge of the investigation into the incident at the ball, and the president had created the new cabinet position that granted Jack the power to do just that. “You know, I could use a good man like you on my staff.”
“You could?” Hendricks asked, his brow wrinkling.
“On behalf of the president, of course,” Jack amended humbly.
“Of course,” Hendricks echoed. “It would be an honor to serve.” He stood a little taller.
Even with his freshly starched uniform, Hendricks couldn’t hide his softness. He was no soldier, honed for battle, but maybe he and the Guard could be useful nonetheless. The men who ran the Order and the Society were a minority too small to really wield power… unless the more insignificant members of the population yielded it voluntarily. With Hendricks, Jack might well be able to take control of the entire Jefferson Guard.
“The president will be honored by your commitment,” Jack said solemnly as the elevator reached the top of the tower. “As am I.”
Hendricks nodded and puffed out his chest even more.
The elevator shuddered to a stop, and the doors opened to reveal the observation platform. Windows encased the space. To the east, the Mississippi curved, muddy and dark, bisecting the country. To the west, endless possibility.
Hendricks made the introductions to the men who were waiting at the top and operating the tower. One sat at a long table that was cluttered with machinery. His concentration remained on the controls, as the other explained how the tower received signals.
“How far can you reach?” Jack asked, studying the machine, his mind whirling.
“So far we’ve managed to get messages from as far as Springfield, Illinois. A distance of over two hundred miles, sir,” the operator told him.
Two hundred miles. It was twice what he had hoped to reach with the Wardenclyffe Tower. “I’d like to see the transformer,” Jack said, wondering how they’d contained the enormous amount of electricity. It had been the singular problem of his original machine: the abundance of power it harvested could not be contained safely. Though the comforting weight of the artifact in his pocket reminded him that perhaps he already had an answer to that particular problem.
“Just through there, sir,” the man told Jack, pointing to a partitioned area with only a small pane of glass to peer through.
Jack went closer and examined it. As he watched, the room lit with a dazzling brilliancy, and a muffled whoosh of sound carried through the heavy door.
“Open it,” Jack told them.
“I’m not sure that’s the best idea,” the operator said hesitantly.
“I didn’t ask if it was a good idea,” Jack said, keeping his voice calm and even. “I asked you to open it.”
“But the amount of voltage necessary to receive a message is quite dangerous,” the operator hedged.
“I’m willing to assume that danger.” Jack glanced at the man.
The operator blinked, clearly torn about what he should do, but eventually he relented. As he worked on unlocking the door of the partition, Jack took a vial from his pocket and placed a cube of morphine beneath his tongue, allowing the bitterness to flood his mouth slowly, so he could savor it. Just as he would savor this.
“Hendricks, you’re free to wait outside if you’d like,” Jack told the Guard, not bothering to look in his direction. He could sense Hendricks’ hesitancy, but to the man’s credit, he stayed.
Silence descended upon the observation tower as they all stood stock-still and waited for a message to arrive.
The flash of blinding light came without warning. The roar of a cannon surrounded him, as the hairs on the nape of Jack’s neck lifted with the residual voltage that sifted through the air. The other men raised their hands to ward off the light, but Jack stared into the brightness, relishing the power that the tower managed to conduct. He gripped the artifact in his pocket, felt the coolness of the stone beneath his fingertips, the way it seemed to shudder and tremble at the power flooding through the room. It seemed to Jack that the stone understood what it was meant for.
When the moment was over, Jack thanked the operator and indicated that he could reseal the transmitter behind the partition. The man was obviously relieved, and Hendricks did not bother to hide his nervous sigh. But none spoke against Jack. Not so long as he was the president’s man.
They were nothing more than sheep. Expendable, stupid animals more concerned with their own meager lives than anything of real importance. Let them believe they were serving the president. It wasn’t a lie, exactly, but the Guard—and the technology held within this tower—were just the beginning of Jack’s plans.
SURROUNDED
