The City in the Sky

MCA Central was a long multi-story building spanning the length of two square blocks in the middle of the island city. It had elements of Gothic revival right down to the rounded turrets that formed the corners of the structure. It was one of the original structures built shortly after the completion of the city’s landmass and had not changed in almost a century. The organization that it housed, on the other hand, was far more malleable. The Ministry’s purpose officially was to execute the law as it applied to Clockworks. However, the manner in which this purpose was performed seemed to reflect the prejudices of the general public at the time. Hence a need for a separate law enforcement agency apart from the one which dealt with human law. Although he found himself slightly annoyed as he walked past the belligerent protesters camped out on the front steps, James felt himself lucky to live in a more progressive time when his job involved something other than simply subjugating Clockworks.

As James walked into the ministry offices, he ran into Pennywhistle, who wasted no time engaging in his favorite game: antagonizing Mulligan.

Pennywhistle’s Cheshire grin almost split his thin face in two. He was a few inches shorter than Mulligan with foppish blond hair that spilled over his protuberant forehead. “What do you think, Squeaky? Gonna solve this pesky ‘Clockwork Slayer’ business today?”

If the two had been friends, the jab would have passed between them in light hearted way. However, this was not the case. Though Pennywhistle’s voice retained a note of joviality, Mulligan found an unpleasant taste in his mouth all the same. Not wishing to prolong the conversation, James gave a quick nod, and continued the short walk towards Archer’s office at the end of the hall. He was reaching for the handle when Pennywhistle’s voice called out behind him,

“If you need any help or fresh ideas, don’t be afraid to ask.”

Mulligan felt his hand ball into a fist and go numb. He turned towards the younger detective and gave a knowing smirk.

“Oh, I don’t think that will be necessary.”

Always quick with a retort, Pennywhistle pressed on. “Why don’t you ask Commandant Archer?“, he shot back.

There was far too much meaning in those words for Mulligan’s liking, but he had had enough of the exchange. Pennywhistle, on the other hand, was just getting warmed up.

“Roger was my friend, Mulligan.” he growled.

Though the remark was true, James suspected it wasn’t simply rooted in the pain of loss. He shook his head in disgust and pushed the door open to find Archer intently studying a dossier spread out on the desk in front of him. His hands rested on either ear and his eyepieces had slid down his long nose. He looked up at Mulligan and bade him to have a seat opposite him. Mulligan settled into a comfy burgundy wingback. The sage green walls and familiar scent of cedar that permeated the office soothed Mulligan’s troubled mind after his unpleasant encounter in the hallway. Fortunately Archer afforded him several minutes of quiet relaxation while the Commandant completed his studies. When he had finished, he slid the dossier across the desk and said, “It looks like our friend isn’t wasting any time. Got himself another one last night.”

James wanted to point out that the gender of the killer had yet to be determined but thought better of it given the unpleasant expression Archer wore at the moment. Instead he picked up the document and commenced reading.

Victim’s name: Model Number 4. (Known Aliases - Edwin Devonshire)

Race: Clockwork

Age: Unknown

Time of Death: Approximately 4:30 - 5:00 a.m. October 13th 1933

Location of Death: Alley adjacent to Spiegel Blvd., Clockwork Zone #4, N.U.K. East.

Cause of Death: Removal/Destruction of “Thought Box” (Per Medical Examiner Notes: See Attachment).

Mulligan looked up at the expectant face of Archer who said,

“Came over the pnuemagraph about an hour ago. Sounds like our man, right?”

“Or a copycat”, offered Mulligan.

“This string of slayings have been the first artie ‘murders’ since I took this post almost 10 years ago. A copycat, though possible, seems unlikely.”

Mulligan agreed and continued reading:

“No motive for the attack has been established, and no suspect(s) has been named.”

“Care for some tea, James?“, Archer interrupted and handed a cup across the desk.

“Yes, thank you, Sir. I was in such a rush this morning that I wasn’t able to partake.”

He sipped the tea as he read, savoring the warmth that it filled him with.

Archer settled back into his overstuffed leather chair and closed his eyes.

“Pennywhistle stopped by this morning”, he began nonchalantly.

Mulligan took another sip of tea before asking, “Oh really, Sir? What did he say?”

“He felt that we ought to be questioning the leaders of the anti-Clockwork movements. You know, bring them in and put the heat on them, that sort of thing.”

Mulligan gave a short laugh and replied “That’s all he had to offer?”

“Well damnit, James, the man has a bloody point! So far we have almost nothing to go on and we are running out of time!”

“Tell you what, Fred.” said James setting his empty cup on Archer’s desk. “You go ahead and let Pennywhistle follow up on those ‘leads’, but I’m willing to wager he will hit a brick wall before long.”

Archer frowned at the cavalier response and asked, “Something you’re not telling me, Detective?”

“It’s all right there in the reports, Sir.”

“I’m listening, James”, said Archer who had now turned to face Mulligan and leaned forward slightly in anticipation. Feeling encouraged, Mulligan continued.

“Allright. I am sure that you are aware, Sir, that Clockworks do not have fingerprints.”

Archer nodded but remained silent.

“If you read the reports you will find that no fingerprints have ever been found at any of the crime scenes.”

“I think I see what you’re getting at, but couldn’t the killer have been wearing gloves?”

“Indeed, Sir, but there was one other strange detail that I’ve noticed.”

“Get on with it.”

“Right, well, there were no fingerprints, however, there were multiple small black smudges identified at each location.”

“What’s your point, James?”

“Upon closer examination, it would appear that the smudges were in a fingerprint arrangement.”

“So you are convinced that the suspect is a Clockwork?” asked archer with overt skepticism.

“I see it as a distinct possibility, Sir.”

“Then you are overlooking one important detail. You know very well that all Clockworks have violence inhibitors, James. It would be physically impossible for any of them to harm another individual, Clockworks included.”

“I have not overlooked the issue, Fred. I’m just conjecturing that someone has somehow found a way around it.”

Archer gave an exasperated sigh. “See here, James, I trust you, I really do, but you are going to have to bring me something more solid to go on. On that note, I have some good news.”

James swallowed his frustration, and asked, “Oh really, Sir? What might that be?”

“There’s no need to be surly. It seems there was a witness.”

Mulligan almost leapt out of his chair. Archer gave a half-cocked smile.

“A Clockwork by the name of Elisha Devonshire. A cohabitant of the ‘deceased’. Says she got a look at our ‘killer’.”

“That settles it, Fred! I’ve got to get over to East immediately!”

Archer looked stunned.

“My God, man! Haven’t you picked up a papy’ today? Seems our friends at the Clockwork Equality Coalition got a little antsy”, he said, and tossed a copy of the Early Edition across the desk to the now perplexed Mulligan.

Mulligan began scanning the front page. His eyes brushed over a small picture of a well-dressed younger man next to the headline “MINISTER OF ENERGY, IRONS, PROMISES BRIGHTER FUTURE FOR N.U.K., and quickly jumped past another which read “M.C.A. MAKES NO HEADWAY IN SLAYER CASE” before coming to rest on the larger, bold print sentence:

“BOMB SCARE AT THE SKYPORTS!”

As Reported by Bethany Cromswell

“At approximately 5:25 this morning authorities were notified of a potential explosive device found in a parcel that was registered to be shipped on a passenger craft bound for North. A maintenance crew became suspicious as they were conducting their below decks inspection just prior to departure. ‘It looked like any other box we had loaded in the holds’, said Maintenace Supervisor, Jeremiah Westerforth, ‴cept it was making this strange clicking sound.” While HMPD has admitted it was an explosive device they have not released any further information nor has anyone claimed responsibility for the act. We are told that all flights will remain docked until further notice.”

“Isn’t that just the damnedest bit of timing. Bunch of bloody fools, those ‘artie’-lovers.”

“Yes. That is an odd coincidence”, said James suspiciously.

“Now, James”, chided Archer detecting the tone in Mulligan’s voice, “we don’t need any more wild theories. I will see what I can do from here about getting you out there as soon as possible. Why don’t you head on home.”