The City in the Sky

James Mulligan didn’t stop running until he reached the front desk of the precinct.

“I need to get to the Clockwork quarter immediately!′

He yelled it with such impetus that the sleepy young cadet behind the podium jumped with a start.

“Of course, Sir”, he said blinking his bright blue eyes and donning his hat. “Follow me to the parking yard.”

The parking yard at this hour was as quiet as the grave. The yard master on duty barely registered acknowledgement as the two officers ran by with cries of an “emergency.” The cadet quickly located a vacant chariot and leapt behind the controls. Mulligan jumped in the seat beside him and the lad pushed both levers forward causing the cart to jolt forward. Mulligan almost tumbled over backwards as they tore out of the yard into the vacant streets. A smile bloomed on the cadet’s face as he was obviously enjoying the rare moment of excitement his job occasionally afforded him. He pushed a button and the green police lanterns ignited as they flew down the bumpy streets.

Before the vehicle had come to a complete stop, Mulligan had already jumped free and landed with a squeal of his prosthetic knee. He rushed past the receptionist, ignoring her requests to assist him and charged up the stairwell. As he burst through the door leading to the 10th floor he could immediately tell something was wrong. The hall lights had been extinguished leaving only a sliver of deep orange puncturing the blackness that seemed to come from somewhere around the Devonshires’ door. The phonograph still blared music but it sounded as if it were skipping and kept playing a two second loop over and over. But what seemed most odd was through all this Mulligan could swear he could hear a faint whirring sound much like the props of an airship. It was an impossibility of course as the city was a no-fly zone. James had no time to give it further consideration as he slid stealthily down the hall. The bedlam of music and prop sounds grew louder with each step until he was just outside the door. He knew he should wait for the cadet, his only back-up, but he wasn’t about to let the opportunity slip away. He pulled his pistol and flipped the safety off. The pistol gave a sharp hiss as the chamber was charged. Mulligan hoped the noise from inside the flat would be enough to cover this blunder. He gently pushed the door open. The lights inside the apartment seemed to be out as well. The orange light originating from the sitting room fireplace sliced briefly into the hallway. Just enough that James could make out the Devonshire servant lying face down in the corridor with a knife sticking out of the back of his head. Mulligan carefully picked his way down the hall avoiding the dark pool of fluid that was growing around the downed Grimes. In the dim light of the hearth’s tepid fire Mulligan could make out the outline of a crouched figure in the corner with his back to the detective. A sickening sound of metal scraping on wet metal came from the direction of the crouched humanoid. A shining blade flashed in the light as the man struggled with his labors.

“Don’t move!“, yelled Mulligan as he leveled his weapon at the intruder’s exposed back. The man ignored the command and stood up to face the detective. He was exactly as Eliza had described him. The long coat and scarf shrouding most of his physical features. He regarded Mulligan with his expressionless, black lenses, but said nothing. Even in the fire’s brief light Mulligan could see a long thin blade flashing as it hung from the assassin’s right hand. James couldn’t see the small object dripping with fluids that was in the left hand, but he had a pretty good guess what it was. Now that the man had stood up he no longer obscured the slight frame of Eliza Devonshire who lay motionless on the floor.

“You son of a bitch!“, yelled Mulligan with unbridled rage. “Drop whatever you’re holding and lay face down on the ground!”

The attacker began to turn as if to leave. It was all Mulligan needed. He squeezed the trigger of the Sakai. The gun hissed loudly and recoiled. The shell struck the attacker in the right shoulder with a dull “phut”. The man took a step backwards and dropped the knife he was holding, but did not utter a sound. Before Mulligan could fire off a another shot, the assassin was sprinting towards the adjacent room to the detective’s right. Mulligan ran after him and took a second shot through the doorway which flew over his target’s head and shattered one of the many clocks which hung on the far wall. The propeller sound grew to deafening proportions as he chased the killer through the long, dark dining room. Suddenly, the assassin spun to his left and leapt out an open window. Mulligan ran to the window expecting to find the fellow laying broken on the cobblestones below. Instead he was stunned to see the man dangling from a rope outside the window. A rope which hung from a small airship that hovered overhead. Mulligan took aim and fired at the suspect but the airship had already began to climb and then quickly flew around the corner of the building out of sight.

“Damnit!“, yelled Mulligan at the fading sound of the retreating ship. Behind him something stirred. He whirled around like a top, the barrel of his gun searching for the source of the sound.

“Sir?“, asked the young cadet who had driven him there.

Mulligan’s arm dropped to his side and he stepped past the young man into the sitting room. He knelt down next to Eliza’s body. The killer didn’t have time to skin her, but the top of her head had been cut open and her thought box was removed.

“No doubt”, thought Mulligan, “in the hands of that fucking madman.”

Mulligan respectfully covered the lifeless Clockwork’s face with a handkerchief. Then he put on his gloves and picked up the knife that was dropped by the suspect. It was a curious blade. Long and slender, too fragile to be an adequate fighting weapon.

“Surgical, perhaps”, thought Mulligan and made a mental note to ask Joshua next time he had the chance. With Eliza gone, he knew exactly who was the killer’s next target. He had to get there first. As the light of the new day crept into the windows he knew he didn’t have much time left.

“Sir, are you all right?“, the cadet asked from behind him. The sudden return to the moment brought up all the frustration Mulligan had been feeling. The death of Eliza, the danger Lucy faced brought him to a boil and he vented towards the only other person he could at the moment.

“What the hell is going on around here?“, he yelled at the startled lad. “Flight over any N.U.K city is prohibited! Where in the hell was Her Majesty’s Airguard?! Why wasn’t an officer appointed to watch over Eliza Devonshire when her companion was fucking murdered only days ago?! Because she’s a Clockwork, she doesn’t matter, right?”

The poor cadet could only stammer “I...I don’t know, Sir. Honestly, I...”

Mulligan immediately felt foolish for his outburst and couldn’t look at the boy for several seconds. Finally he sighed and said, “I’m sorry, officer...?”

“Jenkins”, said the cadet timidly.

“Right, Jenkins. I need a Ministry flight to Central right away.”

“Sir...“, replied the cadet with fear of what was sure to be another berating, “That’s not possible. It would take hours to arrange it.”

“Then I need a ride to the skydocks immediately. Please.”

The young man looked confused. “Shouldn’t we wait at the scene?“, he asked.

“Fine. You wait. Give me the keys.”

“But, Sir...”

“I’m ordering you, Cadet”, said Mulligan with some of his previous fury returning to his voice, “Give me those keys, now!”

The young officer fumbled around in his pocket till he located a large bronze key which the detective snatched from his hand.

“Get on a pneumagraph as soon as you can! Tell Commandant Archer at M.C.A. Central to send someone to the house of Detective James Mulligan right away! He’ll know what to do!”

Before the boy could say another word, Mulligan was already at the stairs. He bolted through the lobby oblivious to the receptionist’s “have a nice day” and quickly located the chariot parked curbside. He slid into the driver’s position and pushed the key home. With a turn of the key he felt the tumblers click into place and heard the boiler begin to hiss and chug. He shoved both levers forward to full speed. The iron wheels spun for a moment before finding purchase on the wet cobblestones. He drove with the reckless purpose of a madman, weaving in and out of the sparse early morning traffic. Caution’s voice cried out in his mind but was quickly shouted down by sheer panic. With the skyport’s first flights not scheduled to leave for hours, he knew of only one place to go, even if he didn’t know what he would do when he got there.