The Apocalypse Four: 93 Million Miles To Gotham Page 5

  “Are you free for the day, Mr. Crowley?” Hearst asked him.

  Crowley’s eyebrows raised a bit. “Yes, I don’t have anything scheduled until later in the week.” The term ‘scheduled’ didn’t cover much more than finding a better place to live.

  “Good,” I need to get out today and you can come along with me to Delmonico’s. I hope you don’t mind eating around the upper crust in this town.” He stood up and went over the door. Crowley followed him without asking a question.

  It took less than five minutes for Hearst’s house servant to summon the chauffeur and have the car brought around. They walked out of the mansion to a long Packard where a uniformed driver held the door open for them. Hearst insisted that Crowley enter into the car first. In a few more minutes, they were on their way downtown.

  “This is a very fine car,” Crowley commented to Hearst. He couldn’t think of anything else to say.

  “This one is best for driving around the city,” Hearst replied. “I have others for traveling outside it. The roads, you know. They get progressively worse the farther you are from New York City.”

  Crowley watched the city speed by from the window in the back of the car. He hadn’t ridden in one of these in a long time. At one point, he’d dreamed of owning such a fine piece of machinery, but that was a long time ago. Now, he was content just to ride in one.

  The driver was familiar enough with the location to take them to it without further instruction. All Hearst needed to do was say the name of the place. He shut the window that separated the driver’s compartment from theirs.

  Soon, they’d pulled up in front of the fancy eating establishment. They joined the line of other long cars that were letting off their passengers. When the attendants spotted the Hearst automobile, they brought it around to the front. The door was opened for them and both men left the car.

  “What does your driver do why you’re inside?” Crowley asked Hearst as the Packard drove away.

  “He knows when to be back,” Hears explained. “John will circle around for about an hour, and then be hear waiting for us when we leave. John’s never been late in the five years he’s worked for me.”

  They were at Fifth Avenue and 44th Street in the heart of New York City. This was the fashionable part of town. Crowley marveled at the display of fine clothes about him. He did his best not to stare as the fancy dress people took their seats at fine tables. Crowley prayed they wouldn’t stare at him in his shabby coat.

  The host brought them through the restaurant and appointed two waiters to show them to their best table. Crowley was overcome by the display of wealth. They were shuffled down a row of tables and led to the one reserved for Hearst. It was close enough to the main room, yet isolated enough for them to have a peaceful conversation.

  “It’s always ready for me,” Hearst described the table. “I don’t use it every day, but better to have it kept open than mess my schedule up by having to find another one.”

  Crowley nodded and seated himself at the table the moment his host sat down.

  Chapter 5

  They talked for a good two hours. Crowley attempted to bring up his ideas of True Will several times, but Hearts didn’t want to hear about it.

  “Sounds like Free Love to me,” he spoke. “That might be fine for sockless intellectuals over in the village, but the working man has no need for it. He’s too busy trying to find a way to turn a dollar.”

  Crowley did find Hearst’s obsession with “the working man” to be a bit hard to take. Here was one of the most wealthy and powerful men in the country. He expected Crowley to believe he had compassion for the downtrodden masses. Crowley wondered if that included the chauffeur who was circulating the block and the serving staff in Hearst’s mansion. Not to mention the people who hauled his newspapers around town.

  “Now this man Garvey, him I would like to meet,” Hearst mentioned. “As for Tesla’s vanishing, I’ll put some of my best people on it today. They’ll find something out. You can’t trust these Tammany Hall politicians to do anything but feather their own nest. Someday I’ll run for mayor again and then they’ll have a real challenge.” Crowley watched as Hearst seemed to fade away. He looked at a car passing by the window.

  “I do have Garvey’s card,” Crowley told him as he went through his pockets again. In a few minutes, he’d brought it up to the table and laid it in front of Hearst.

  “Harlem, I see,” Hearst spoke. “I’ve been there a few times. Do you think he’d come out and talk to me if we drove up there?”

  Crowley was a bit surprised to hear Hearst propose such a thing. A fancy car in Harlem with one of the richest men in town would attract all manner of attention, most of it not good. However, if it led to something better, then not a bad idea. He was sick and tired of vague promises by the moneyed class who simply wanted a quick way to get access to more women.

  “We can always try,” Crowley replied. “Garvey didn’t say what he was doing today, so no harm in driving up there.” Although he doubted Garvey would be home. The address was of a boarding house and he expected Garvey would be out making a speech someplace. The man was small, but he was a powerhouse filled with energy and drive.

  “Good, let’s go then,” the publisher spoke and pushed his plate away. Crowley had watched the man put away a big lunch, he liked to eat in the same way he published.

  By the time they got to the street, Hearst’s Packard was already on its way around to greet them. A valet from the restaurant ran up and opened the door for both men. Crowley noted Hearst slapped a large bill in the man’s hand as he passed by him. Hearst could be generous on occasion.

  The Packard pulled away from the curb. Crowley relaxed in the back across from Hearst and tried to remember why he was in New York City. He was about to ask Hearst a question when he noted someone outside the window and on the street.

  “There he is!” Crowley exclaimed and pointed at the curb. “Have your man stop the car and pick him up.”

  “Who?” Hearst demanded. “Do you see Tesla?”

  “No, Garvey. I see him walking down the street.” He pointed him out in the busy foot traffic.

  Hearst had the driver roll up to the curb. He rolled down the window and yelled, but there was no way Garvey could hear him on the busy street.

  “Let me try,” Crowley suggested as he opened the door to the car. “I’ll bring him back.”

  Before Hearst could object, Crowley was on the street, walking in a fast pace after the Jamaican. His years of mountain climbing were far behind him, but Crowley could still keep up a brisk trot when the need arose. In a few minutes, he’d caught up to the lone figure of Marcus Garvey.

  “Marcus!” Crowley cried when he was a few steps behind.

  Garvey turned around to face the mystic and looked at him in confusion. “Aleister Crowley,” he spoke. “I was trying to find you. I called on your artist friend and he said you’d gone up to see William Randolph Hearst for some reason. I know Hearst comes here for lunch at times and thought I might find you both.”

  “You guessed right, old boy,” Crowley spoke. He noted that Garvey winched on his use of the British school term and made a mental note not to say it again.

  “Hearst wants to meet you,” Crowley explained. “His car is waiting a block away. Let’s go join him if you have the time.”

  “Hearst?” Garvey spoke. “I would like to meet him. I had other things planned for the day, but I’ll make time for him.” He followed Crowley back to Hearst’s car.

  Once inside, the driver sped off and into the crowded lane of traffic. Crowley introduced Garvey to the newspaper publisher and sat next to him.

  “I’ve heard a lot about you, Mr. Garvey,” Hearst told him. “They say you’ll be an important man someday. Is it true you’re trying to start an organization of your own to rival the NAACP?”

  “It’s in the works,” Garvey explained. “Right now, I’m busy trying to finance a newspaper for our people. It’s not easy to get one
off the ground, but I’m sure you understand the complications.”

  “It so happens Marcus was on his way to find me,” Crowley cut in, “so we were lucky today. It saved us a trip up to Harlem.”

  “On your way to see Aleister?” Hearst spoke to Garvey. “Whatever for? He’s quite popular as of late.”

  “I have some news about Tesla,” Garvey spoke. “I think whoever kidnapped him might be holding the man in a house in Hell’s Kitchen.”

  “How did you find that out?” Crowley demanded.

  “I have my sources. Someone close to my network reported seeing a man who fits Tesla’s description hauled into a tenement in the district.”

  “This is serious,” Hearst exclaimed, “with all this talk going on in Congress, Tesla’s kidnapping could pull us into war immediately. Where did you say that workshop of his was located?”

  Garvey gave him the address and Hearst rapped on the window that divided the driver’s side from the passenger compartment in his Packard. The chauffeur lowered the window by an electric motor. Hearst gave him the address.

  “We need to get over there in a hurry,” He told the driver. “Fast as you can!” He sent the dividing window back up.

  Crowley felt the car lunge as the big Packard made a fast turn in the middle of the street and head in the direction Hearst gave him. The driver hadn’t even checked to see if the lane was clear.

  Crowley was amazed, and a little bit scared, as to how the driver maneuvered the car in traffic. His Uncle Tom once grumbled about the “satanic speeds” these automobiles used to get around. Crowley tended to agree with his uncle right now. Although he and Garvey were tossed from one side to another, the movement of the car didn’t affect Hearst one bit. He held onto the side handle and managed to keep himself from falling into the floor.

  The car pulled up to the front of the building, where Crowley had been the day before, with an abrupt stop. He waited for a few seconds to make sure the driver didn’t take off again. Hearst was out of the car with Garvey and Crowley in the rear. A few people in the building opened the windows to have a look at the Packard parked out front.

  “Where is this workshop or laboratory you mentioned?” Hearst demanded. He stood next to the car and towered over everyone else.

  “It’s in the rear,” Crowley explained. He walked quickly in the general direction and heard the other two follow. As he expected, the driver stayed with the car.

  A few minutes later, they bounded up the stairs to the rear section. Crowley scampered down the hallway with his friends close behind him.

  He walked up to the door, which led to Tesla’s laboratory, and stopped.

  The door was wide open this time. Crowley walked inside and looked around. He could hear the footsteps of Garvey and Hearst behind him.

  “I thought you said this place was a mess,” Hearst was the first to speak. He looked around the room.

  It was spotless.

  Someone had come into the workshop and cleaned it out. There wasn’t one bit of broken glass, torn pages or spilled chemicals anywhere. The room was bare from the walls to the floor. It resembled an apartment about to be rented out to a new leaser.

  “It was full of broken instruments and equipment yesterday,” Crowley swore. “I came here when I found the address in that newspaper. I thought the police might be here, but it was a mess.”

  “Are you sure this is the right location?” Garvey asked him. “Many of these old factories look the same.” He walked around the room and examined it. There wasn’t one bit of furniture or chairs in the place.

  “Yes,” Crowley swore again, “this is the place. I remember the outside from yesterday. Someone has come in here and removed everything. I have no idea why they would do this. I swear, this is the place that was listed in the paper.”

  “A paper that seems to have only one edition,’ Hearst reminded him. “And only one copy. A paper that I am sure was not published in our fair city before yesterday.” He glared at Crowley.

  “This is not a hoax,” Crowley explained. “I don’t know who planted that paper in front of me, but it was real. Just as this room is real.”

  “Then please explain the absence of anything that would tie it into Tesla,” Garvey demanded. “I believe Tesla was abducted, but I don’t see how this location had anything to do with it.”

  “It’s because you can’t see any other reality than the one you inhabit,” a voice from the door called out to them.

  All three men turned to see the newcomer.

  The voice belonged to a statuesque woman who wore a long black dress, as if she was on her way to a funeral. A large hat that matched her dress material covered he head and a black veil her face. She stepped into the room with a folded parasol at her side.

  Crowley was on the verge of demanding her identity when the veil parted and he had a look at the face behind it.

  It was Her. Babalon. His body began to tremble.

  “Whom do we have the pleasure of addressing?” Hearst demanded. “My associates and I were brought here to see the remains of Nikola Tesla’s laboratory. This man claimed it was smashed up by a group of thugs.” He gestured at Crowley.

  “Aleister knows my name,” she told him. “He can tell you later. We’ve been close for a long time, haven’t we, Edward?” Under the veil, it was possible to see the outline of a smile.

  Hearst and Garvey turned into his direction for an explanation, but Crowley looked at the floor. Now was not the time to explain who She was.

  “Nikola Tesla was kidnapped by agents of the German Empire,” she told them. “He was taken to a safe house they maintain. Here is the address where you will find him. She produced a card out of nowhere with some writing on it and handed it to Hearst.

  “I suggest you get over there right now,” she continued, “and get him to safety. His health isn’t in the best shape and he might not survive any questioning they put to him.”

  “How are we supposed to get him out?” Garvey spoke. “It will take time to assemble enough people to mount a rescue.”

  “No it won’t,” she snapped back. “There are plenty of guns in the back of your car, aren’t there, William?” She stared at Hearst through the veil. Her eyes seemed to glow.

  “How do you know about that?” Hearst snapped at her.

  “I know a lot, William,” she told him. “I know about the waitress you tried to take with you to California. Mother didn’t like, did she?”

  Crowley watched Hearst change to a paler shade of white. The publisher was quiet.

  “And I know about the woman you left behind,” she said, as the woman turned to Garvey. The Jamaican was speechless.

  “You,” she spoke to Crowley. “Don’t even get me started on what I know about you. You want me, but you’ll never have me.”

  Her gaze took in all of them. “Are we in agreement?” she asked. No words came from the trio in front of her.

  “I’m glad to hear your approvals,” she spoke, a thin smile forming behind the translucent fabric.

  “Now get your collective butts over to that address and rescue Tesla. Don’t give me a reason to come back.” The woman turned and walked out of the room.

  There was a thirty-second moment of silence.

  “The guns,” Garvey broke the quiet. “Mr. Hearst, you have guns in the back of your car?”

  “I’ve had them in there for a long time,” Hearst explained. “All manner of people want me dead. I wasn’t about to make it easy for them. There’s enough fireside in the back of that car to take out a division of British lancers.” He continued to stare at the door where the woman had stood.

  Hearst walked into the doorway and looked around. They could see him turn both ways from the empty room.

  “It won’t do you any good to try and follow her,” Crowley called after him. “She’s gone and will return whenever she feels like doing so.”

  “Is she gone, Mr. Hearst?” Garvey called after him. He ignored Crowley.

  �
�Bill,” he called back to him, “Just call me Bill for now. We’re all in this together, no reason to be formal.” He walked back in the room.

  “Who the hell was that,” Hearst demanded to know from Crowley. Garvey shifted to Hearst’s side of the room and stared at the British mystic.

  “Babalon,” Crowley spoke in a determined manner. “I know her as Babalon. That’s all I know about her for sure.”

  “Babalon?” asked Hearst. “You mean the city?”

  “Or that woman in the bible riding the dragon?” Garvey asked. “The mother of whores?”

  “I don’t know anything else about her,” he spoke. “I thought she might be the female aspect of creation. Then I thought she might be the human sex drive. Now, I don’t know much at all about her. She shows up whenever she wants to. I think it’s a good idea to follow her commands. It won’t go well if we disobey her.”

  Hearst looked up and down at Crowley and his shabby coat. “She hasn’t improved you station much,” he griped. “If she’s some kind of avenging angel, she could at least give you a better set of clothes.”

  “She does what she wants,” Crowley spoke.

  “And why should we do what she demands?” Garvey asked. “Why should we follow her commands?”

  Crowley shivered. “It’s not a wise man who disobeys her,” he explained. “She can make you do…things. Things you don’t want to do.”

  “We need to get Tesla,” Hearst spoke again. “Maybe he’ll have some insight as to what’s going on. We can’t leave the man in the hands of those people who captured him. Tesla’s still a national resource and we need him more than ever. Let’s head back to my car.” The others followed him.

  “Don’t worry about John,” Hearst explained as they came up to the vehicle. “He’s loyal and we can trust him. I hired the man because he used to be a sheriff out west. He cleaned up several towns before the cattle barons decided they didn’t want him around poking into the way they made their money.”

  Crowley crawled into the back of the car with Garvey. They waited for Hearst to finish telling the driver what to do. From inside the car, they could see the two go to the back of the car and open the trunk.