Black Mercury

Chapter Three

Chapter Three

Cas spent most of his afternoon at the house of Lukas Rosenthal, awaiting his friend’s return. He arranged himself on a sofa, with as many soft things under his neck as would fit, and spent most of the time dozing. Clara had forced some medication on him, and he had to admit that it helped. He felt pleasantly drowsy and remarkably unconcerned about the dramatic events of the day.

At the back of his mind, though, lurked the notion that Luk would probably be a bit annoyed about it all. So he waited.

It was late in the afternoon when Luk finally came in. His leg was splinted and he walked with the aid of a pair of metal crutches. He looked tired, his normally handsome features drawn with weariness and barely controlled anger. Cas watched as his friend made his awkward way through the front door and closed it behind him. Only then did it occur to him that he ought to have helped.

“So, Luk,” he said, sitting up carefully. “Who did it?”

Lukas looked round in surprise. Apparently he’d been too busy navigating on the new crutches to notice that he had a visitor.

“Cas,” he said by way of greeting. He eased himself into a chair, stretched his leg out in front of him, and let out a long sigh. “Mik Hass.”

Cas said nothing for a moment, turning the name over in his sluggish mind. Mik Hass. He was one of those drivers who just about managed to stay in the competition but never did very well in it. No one had expected him to qualify for the Cup, and some had said he’d somehow cheated his way in. Neither Mik nor anyone else had any illusions about where he’d place.

“Same reason you were late to the starting line?” Cas enquired.

Luk grunted. “Jammed door to the water closet. Kept me penned up for five or ten minutes—just long enough. After that the door miraculously unjammed itself.”

“You see anyone?”

Luk shook his head.

Cas pondered all that. “So, Hass,” he said after a moment. “Even with you out, he’s got no chance.”

“They disqualified him anyway. He’s banned from taking part in any future events, too.”

“Not surprised,” Cas grunted, concealing the spasm of nerves that comment generated.

Luk picked up on it anyway. “There’s talk of kicking you out too, Cas.”

Cas groaned. “Think they will?”

Luk shrugged. “They haven’t yet, which is a good sign.” He frowned at Caspar. Pain had put rings around his eyes almost as dark as his hair. “Stupid of you.”

“I know, I know. I’ve been told.”

“So why do it?”

Cas lay back down on the sofa, wincing as his neck muscles jarred. “Couldn’t let the bastard get away with it.”

Luk said nothing.

“Why Hass?” Cas said again after a moment. “I don’t see how he’d gain by forcing you out.”

“Someone paid him to do it, of course. Hass knew he hadn’t a chance of winning the Cup. He was making way for someone else.”

Cas grunted. “Like who?”

“No idea. He wouldn’t talk. Just grinned and walked off.”

Cas sat up again. “Right. That’s it.”

“What’s it?”

“The man needs his face broken,” Cas said, wandering over to the door. He suffered a head rush halfway there and swayed.

Lukas snorted. “Yeah, and you look like just the person for the job.”

Scowling, Cas staggered back to the sofa and slumped down.

Lukas stared at him for several silent moments, his face unreadable. “So I’m out,” he said at last. “How bad’s the damage to your carriage?”

“Fixable.”

Luk nodded. “Fixable in time?”

“If Aunt Hild comes to my rescue, yes. If not… well, I don’t think my father would pay for it again.”

Lukas grinned. “He still trying to persuade you to quit?”

“With gusto.”

“Well, maybe he’s got a point. We aren’t getting any younger.” Luk hesitated. “I was going to tell you, Cas. After the Cup, I was planning to bow out anyway.”

Caspar blinked at his friend, knocked speechless for an instant or two. “Leave racing?”

“I’m over thirty. It’s time to find something else.” He sighed. “Only, I suppose I’ll be doing that without my last hurrah.”

Cas nodded slowly. “If I’m still in, I’ll do my best.”

“What? To win it for me?” Lukas laughed outright. “Don’t be absurd.”

“Well. For me too,” Cas conceded with a grin. “Got to cut off that bastard, too.”

“Which one in particular?”

“Um. Whoever paid Hass to eliminate you.”

“Right.” Luk frowned. “I’ll see what I can find out. I don’t have a whole lot else to do for the next few days anyway.”

Cas nodded glumly. “Nor I, I suppose. Neck messed up, car ruined.”

“Leg broken.”

“Er. Yeah, sorry. Worse for you.”

Luk opened his mouth to add something, but stopped when his front door flew open and someone stepped into the tiny passageway adjacent to the parlour they were sitting in. A woman, by the sound of the footsteps. And the way the door almost slammed was familiar, too.

“Clara,” Cas said as his nominal assistant walked into the room. “Since when have you had a key to Lukas’s house?”

“Since last month,” she said, and turned her back on him. “Luk. How bad is it?”

There followed a conversation held in undertones, to which Cas was too gentlemanly to listen. Much.

“Why have you got a key to Luk’s house?” he interrupted at the first opportunity.

Clara shot him one of her looks. This one said, isn’t it obvious?

Judging from the way she was fussing over Luk’s splinted leg, smiling with anxious concern, perhaps it was. She clinched the matter by leaning down to plant a kiss on Luk’s forehead, then on his mouth.

Oh.

“Right, well, I can see when I’m in the way,” he said, and hauled himself to his feet. “I’ll be at home. Sleeping.”

“See that you do sleep,” Clara said over her shoulder. “I’ve instructions to take you to the track at ten.”

“Ten,” Cas repeated numbly. “Isn’t that a bit early?”

“Or late, perhaps?”

“What… you mean ten at night?”

“I do mean ten at night.”

“What in the world for?”

Clara turned to face him at last, wearing that annoying no-nonsense expression. “Because your aunt is already on her way out there with some of her people. They’re going all out to fix your car. At ten, or rather later, you’ll be driving it.”

“Driving it,” Cas repeated. He glanced at Lukas, recumbent and with his leg in a splint, then back at Clara. “Did it escape your attention that Lukas wasn’t the only person injured today?”

“It didn’t.”

Cas grunted.

“Your aunt’s going well out of her way to do this for you, Cas,” Clara said coolly. “She needs something from you in return. You’ll be glad to help her, won’t you?”

Sighing, Cas said, “Of course, of course. Anything for Aunt Hild. I’ll need more of that medicine, though.”

“No,” she said firmly. “Or you’ll be too sleepy to drive.”

He blinked. “But my neck hurts.”

“So live with the pain.”

Cas sloped off to the door, scowling. Another head rush hit him halfway there and he swayed, groping about for something to prop him up. He found the edge of the open door and hung onto it.

He heard Clara sigh from behind him. “I’d better take you home.”

“I’m fine,” he mumbled.

“Clearly.” She shook her head, lips twitching in a wry smile as she guided him through the door.

“Are you coming back?” Luk called.

Cas opened his mouth to reply, then shut it again. Luk was talking to Clara, of course.

“If I can,” she replied. She left Cas for a moment and whispered something to Luk in an undertone. Cas kept his face averted as she bestowed more affection on his friend. Then she was back at his side, ushering him out of the house. “Can you manage to walk a bit?” she asked.

“Walking is pretty simple,” he said with infinite dignity. “I’ve been doing it for years.”

She grinned. “Without falling over, if you please.”

He grinned back. “You looked nice in the green thing.”

Clara’s eyes widened in surprise. “My skirt? Oh. Thank you.”

He nodded, feeling faintly embarrassed. She’d tied her hair back in a neat braid, her usual hairstyle. It looked nice—she always looked nice—but he wished she’d left it loose. She had beautiful hair: long and inky black, striking with her pale brown skin.

Silence stretched and he coughed. “Homeward?”

“Homeward,” she agreed with a smile.

***

A few hours of sleep improved Caspar’s mood considerably. By the time he had cleaned himself up and filled his empty stomach, he was almost optimistic again. The fate of his autocarriage didn’t seem so terrible; after all, his aunt Hildegard could fix anything. His neck didn’t hurt quite as much. Even Clara’s defection to Lukas’s corner didn’t seem so very bad. When she turned up in person to escort him to the track, he felt even better. She hardly scolded him at all.

The overhead train was all but deserted at night, so they had at least eighteen seats to themselves. Cas was pleased when Clara chose to sit next to him anyway. “So, you and Luk,” he said, trying to sound casual. “How long have you two been…?”

Clara looked his way briefly out of the corner of her eye. That was her appraising look, when she was trying to figure out what he wasn’t saying. She usually managed that without any trouble, which didn’t say a lot for his talent for mystique.

“I don’t know. A few weeks?”

“Right.” He paused. “I didn’t know.”

She shifted in her seat, turning herself more towards the window and away from him. “It wasn’t your business.”

“But—”

“Hush, Cas, please. It’s going to be a long night, and I have a lot to think about.”

Caspar hushed.

All the lights were on when they arrived at the track. It looked cheery and welcoming, like a fairground at night. There was a certain bustle in the air; that feeling of feverish activity taking place somewhere just out of sight. Clara led him straight to the corner where he’d crashed. His autocarriage was still there, sitting forlornly off to one side of the track. He could hardly see it under the swarm of people at work on his poor machine.

“Where did she get all these people?” Cas said, surprised.

“I think she raided Max’s staff,” Clara said with a chuckle. “Probably without asking him.”

“It’s good of her to go to so much trouble.” He made to advance, but Clara grabbed his arm.

“Don’t get in the way,” she cautioned. “It’ll be done soon. And… don’t be too grateful. I don’t think this has all that much to do with you.”

“It doesn’t?” He stared at her, surprised. “What else could it possibly have to do with?”

“You’ll see. There, looks like she’s about done.”

Clara was right. The crush around the autocarriage was thinning out as groups of engineers backed off. He couldn’t tell too well in this light and at this distance, but the vehicle looked pretty sound again.

Hildegard’s tall figure separated from a pack of engineers and she approached, smiling. “Hello, nephew,” she said in a loud, carrying voice. “Just about fixed, my boy. You’re all ready for tomorrow’s tests.”

“I can hear you just fine,” he protested.

Hildegard winked at him and turned back to her purloined workers. “That’s it, chaps, thank you. You can go.”

Cas watched, confused, as most of the dark figures streamed off the track and away, taking their tools and machinery with them. Only four remained besides Hildy herself.

“Hild. Aren’t we supposed to do the test drive before you dismiss the team? You know, make sure everything is working and all that?”

“Correct!” she beamed. “And we will, only I’d rather not have an audience for this next part.”

This was secretive, even for Hildy. Cas just shook his head and forbore to question her further. Aunt Hild was obviously not going to explain—and neither was Clara, who was just as obviously in the thick of this particular piece of cloak-and-daggery. “All right, Aunt. Let me know when we’re ready.”

“Til will get it back on the track in a minute,” she said. “Your neck okay?”

It wasn’t, really. Some of the agony of the morning had faded, but the longer he was up and walking around, the more his strained muscles protested. “I’ll be fine for a quick test drive,” he said confidently.

She nodded, eyes sparkling with excitement. “Excellent! You’re a good sort, Cas. Shouldn’t take long.”

Caspar stood back with Clara as one of Hildy’s people, the big one he knew vaguely as Til, got into his autocarriage and drove it carefully back onto the track. The machine seemed to be running fine, as far as Cas could tell; the boiler was bubbling ferociously, pouring steam out into the night air. Cas took a step forward, ready to take Til’s place, but Clara grabbed his wrist.

“Wait a moment,” she said.

“What? Why?”

Clara said nothing, just nodded meaningfully at the autocarriage. Confused, Cas watched as Til brought the machine to a halt and… turned off the engine. Then he got out and opened up the boiler. Cas could hear the faint sound of water running out onto the ground.

“He just drained the boiler,” Caspar said. “Why did he just drain the boiler?”

“Be quiet for two seconds, Cas, can’t you? You’ll see in a moment.”

Cas sighed and subsided. Clara and his aunt frequently agreed with one another, even colluded together, though he couldn’t see why. And he was always excluded. It wasn’t terribly fair, he thought resentfully, given that this was his racing career.

Hildy opened up a locked box and brought forth a can of something. Cas couldn’t tell what it was in the dim light, but he guessed that it was water because she was pouring it into the boiler of his autocarriage. Why would she drain it only to refill it again? It had been working fine before. He opened his mouth to pose this question but Hildy interrupted.

“In you get, Cas!” she shouted, closing up the boiler again. Til cranked up the engine and the autocarriage began again the process of heating up, getting ready to move off. Caspar approached, feeling wary.

“What’s going on?” he said as he caught up with Hildy.

“Just drive,” she smiled. “A lap or two. But let’s put this on first.” She held up an unidentifiable contraption made from metal and padded with leather and some other soft things.

“I’ve no idea what that is.”

“It’s for your neck. Hold still.” She slammed shut the lid of her box and slid it over to Cas’s feet. Standing on it for increased height, she did something complicated with the metal thing, snapping it shut around his neck. It hurt.

“Ouch,” he protested weakly.

“Well, now it won’t hurt as much when you drive.” Hildy stepped off the box and away. The device prevented him from moving his neck much; he could swivel his head from side to side, but that was about it. He had to admit that it helped; he didn’t have to do the work to hold his head and neck still anymore.

“Thanks,” he said, but Hildy had already moved out of hearing. So he got into the driver’s seat instead and waited while Til strapped him in.

“I don’t suppose you know what this is about?” he asked without much hope.

Til grinned at him. “Your carriage has had an upgrade,” he said gruffly. “A note of advice: drive carefully.”

“I don’t—” Cas started, but Til was backing off. The autocarriage was almost ready to go, and Hildy had got someone to operate the track’s lights system. Coloured lights began flashing at him and the starting shot sounded.

Cas swore.

“Fine, fine. I’m driving.” Ordinarily he would start cautiously, mindful of the several other cars that always began ahead of him. But this time he was alone on the track. Grinning, he pushed the accelerator pedal all the way to the floor.

The autocarriage shot forward fast; too fast! The vehicle hurtled down the track with enough speed to slam him back against his seat, hard. Despite the bracing contraption, his neck screamed with pain and his heart raced with sudden fear. What the hell? The first turn loomed far sooner than it should have, and only quick reflexes saved Cas from slamming into the wall. He wrenched the steering wheel around and made it through the turn, only to be thrown into the next turn before he was ready. He fought the machine through three more turns, trying to ease off on the accelerator, but it seemed that once in motion, nothing could hold it back.

He was screaming his way through the tight turn halfway around the track when he lost it. Two bends in quick succession did it for him; he swung left and then tried to recover right, but the autocarriage was going far too fast. He slammed into the wall.

Again.

He sat still for a few moments, dazed, until he realised that the vehicle still hadn’t stopped. Half the front end was crushed, but the engine was still roaring, trying to carry the thing through the wall if it couldn’t go around it. The wheels were grinding against the track boundaries, slowly turning the car in the direction of the open track to the right.

Cas swore a few times, suffering a moment’s blind panic. He hurt in several places and he could feel the warmth of blood on his forehead, but he couldn’t find a way to stop the car. The brake squealed in protest and was repeatedly overruled by the extreme ferocity of his engine. What had Hildy done to his autocarriage?!

Voices shouted from somewhere behind him, but he couldn’t twist far enough around to see who approached. In the end it was Til’s voice that rose to a bellow that he could hear over the engine.

‘OUT OF THE CAR!’ Til bawled.

Cas tried, but his shaking hands fumbled the straps and he couldn’t get the second one off. Sweating, he tried again, but then Til was there. The bigger man didn’t bother with the clasp: he just grabbed the thing in one huge hand and hauled. It snapped. Til dragged Cas out of the driver’s seat, heedless of injury, but Cas’s protests died before he’d uttered them. He was barely pulled clear before his autocarriage fought its way around the turn and went roaring off down the track.

Nobody spoke.

A few seconds later, the sound of another impact split the night air.

Cas let out a long, shaky sigh. Til was still holding him up, and he was grateful because his legs felt like rubber.

“You okay, lad?” Til said quietly.

“Um,” said Cas.

“Just sit down a minute,” Til advised, and guided him to the floor. Cas sat, stretching his legs out in front of him. He didn’t seem to have broken anything, but he hurt plenty anyway.

Hildy caught up with them a moment later, trailed by Clara and two others he didn’t recognise. To his surprise, Clara went straight to him and dropped to her knees beside him. She wasn’t nearly so composed as she had been earlier in the day.

“Cas,” she said breathlessly. “Are you hurt?”

“My head,” he said, gesturing vaguely.

Clara investigated. Her touch was gentle but it still stung horribly. “Twice in one day,” she sighed.

“You have to admit,” he said, wincing, “this one was not my fault.”

Clara didn’t reply to that. “Looks like something flew up and hit you here,” she reported, lightly touching his forehead above his left eye. “It isn’t deep, though it is bleeding quite a lot.”

“Right,” he said faintly.

Hildy had walked off in the direction his carriage had gone, but she was soon back. She looked white-faced and shaken, though not angry as he might have expected. His car had just been wrecked for the second time in one day; why wouldn’t she be angry?

“Upgrade?” he asked, trying to look up at her without straining his neck. “That’s what you call an upgrade?”

She gave a sudden, fierce grin and crouched on her haunches beside him. “A huge upgrade, I’d say. Any lasting damage?”

“Clara says not.”

Hildy glanced at Clara for confirmation of this, but Clara wouldn’t look at her or speak. She continued her self-appointed task of checking Cas for wounds, maintaining a tight-lipped silence as she did so.

“You’re right,” Hildy said with a sigh. “I shouldn’t have used Cas, but I honestly didn’t expect it to be this powerful.” Her voice was brimming with excitement, and in spite of her expressed regret, her eyes sparkled with glee. She managed to sober herself enough to offer a proper apology.

He patted her hand. “You’re forgiven for almost killing me, of course, but can I ask why…?”

“I expected that the carriage would be faster,” she admitted. “I was hoping for quite a lot faster, though nothing like that. Til offered to drive, but if I was right I knew I’d need an experienced autocarriage driver—you’ve got the reflexes to handle it. If I’d let Til do it he’d have crashed at the first corner.”

Cas grunted. “Could you at least warn me next time?”

Hildy had started grinning again, but she sobered at that and nodded. “You’re right, I should have involved you better.”

“A thought, Hildy,” Clara said, standing up. “There are lots of autocarriages and, I daresay, a lot more of that fuel you’ve been using. But there is only one Caspar.”

Hildegard looked shocked at this speech, and Cas was more than a little surprised himself. He’d never known Clara to be angry with his aunt before. In fact, he’d rarely seen her angry at anybody. Other than himself, anyway.

“Hey,” he protested, trying to get his legs under him. “Let’s not fight. I’m perfectly fine.”

“Not perfectly,” Clara muttered, but she didn’t say anything else. She grabbed Cas’s left arm, and Hildy, looking stricken, rushed to take his right. Between them they got him on his feet again. Only then did he notice that Til and the other two of Hildy’s people weren’t there. Probably they had gone in search of his wayward autocarriage.

“So, my good aunt,” Cas said once he was stable. “What exactly did you do to it?”

Hildy was silent for a moment, obviously struggling with herself. She stared at him with troubled eyes, then looked to Clara.

“I think he’s earned it,” Clara said coldly.

Hildy nodded once. Digging in her trouser pockets, she produced a small vial and handed it to Cas.

“I put that in the boiler,” she said softly. “We applied a few modifications to the carriage to adjust for the extra speed, or so we hoped. That’s really it.”

Cas stared at the vial. A dark black liquid moved sluggishly when he tipped the container, and around the cork stopper his nose caught wisps of an acrid, unpleasant smell with a coppery tang.

“What is it?”

Hildy shrugged. “Nobody knows. Max gave it to me. He said he got it from Hans.”

“Hans Diederich?”

Hildy nodded, and Cas only felt more confused. Hans owned Diederich Enterprises, one of Eisenstadt’s biggest mining companies. Goldstein Industries bought a lot of their materials from him, and he and Cas’s father had been friends for years.

“Hans has been running some new type of operation out at the lake,” she said. “I don’t know what’s involved, but somewhere along the way they dredged up some of this stuff.”

That was stranger still. Lake Sherrat was an enormous body of water around which the city of Eisenstadt was built. It was easily a mile wide, and deep. And this remarkable fuel had been lurking beneath the waters all this time?

Hildy’s ferocious grin escaped her control again. “You realise the possibilities, don’t you, Cas?”

He did indeed. With speed like that, he could win any autocarriage race—assuming Hildy could modify the vehicle to handle it without careening out of control. “The possibilities are interesting,” he allowed. “But doesn’t this belong to Hans?”

Hildy shrugged that problem away. “Max asked me to test it. They have no idea what it is or what it does.”

Cas began to grin too. “You aren’t going to tell them, are you?”

“Not a chance. But I’m thinking I will need a much bigger sample from Hans to make sure I’ve tested every possibility.”

“Like several gallons?” Cas guessed.

“At least five, maybe more. Hans thinks it’s just a waste product. He gave some to Max as a point of interest, and Max asked me to test it ‘just to make sure.’”

Cas nodded soberly. “It’s a shame that you haven’t discovered a use for it.”

Hildy chuckled. “Isn’t it? But I don’t think Max will be too disappointed. He has plenty of other exciting new ventures to deal with. This one is going to be mine.”

“If you’re finished,” Clara interrupted, “I think Cas needs to go home.”

“Oh, right,” Hildy said, backing off. “Of course. I’m sorry about the new bruises, Cas, but don’t worry about the autocarriage. I’ll get it fixed up.”

He hoped that ‘fixed up’ would include redesigning it to take the enhanced speed, but he didn’t push. Instead, he said, “Which part of the lake is Hans working on?”

“North side,” Hildy said with a small smile. “Near the train station. You can’t miss it.”

“Just asking,” he smiled.

“Come on, Cas,” Clara interrupted again. “Stop thinking about driving and start thinking about resting.”

“Ma’am.” He nodded to Hildy and allowed himself to be led away.

This time, Clara didn’t abandon him to make the journey alone. She escorted him all the way back to his house, cleaned up the wound on his head, fed him, and made sure he was comfortable. Being fussed over was pleasant, he decided, and Clara was good at it. She tucked him up in bed with some new painkillers to ease the aches and sat down in a chair near his bed.

He opened one eye to peer at her. “Staying?”

“For a little while. Just to make sure you sleep.”

“This is me sleeping,” he assured her. “You should go.”

Clara just shook her head. He was about to drift off when she spoke again. “You live a charmed life, Caspar Goldstein.” This was uttered with a sigh. “Can you promise me something?”

“Mmph?”

“Take better care of yourself, please? You aren’t eighteen anymore. No more collisions, no more injuries. Promise.”

“Anything for you, schatzi,” he muttered sleepily.

She snorted faintly. “Good enough. Now sleep.”