Saving the Scientist (The Restitution League #2)(69)

Her job would be to incite anger. The hotter their prey’s emotions ran, the more likely he’d be to act in haste. She could blather on all day about her batteries, but a bang-up demonstration would put things over the top.

“We’ll need a way to demonstrate the battery’s capabilities,” she said.

Edison turned fully around this time, putting his back to the workbench. “Good point.” He waggled a wrench in her direction. “Now you’re thinking like a showman.”

So it wasn’t her imagination.

He met any mention of emotion with stony silence. But get the man talking about a caper, and he lit up like magnesium dropped in a vial of carbon dioxide. A bright flame, to be sure, but wholly unstable.

Ada crossed her arms, considering. Perhaps it was better to cut things off now.

Edison’s brass butler regarded her from his place in the far corner of the room. She headed for it, bending down on one knee to open the back hatch of the device.

The silvery guts glimmered in the afternoon light. Edison was right. Between the gears and cables necessary to make the thing run, there wasn’t any room inside for a bigger flywheel to power it.

“My battery would run this,” she said.

Edison knelt beside her, the wrench still in his hand. “Could be too powerful. I’ve got the power regulation set for the flywheel.”

“It’s worth a try, isn’t it?” Ada wanted to grab the wrench and bash him over the head. Where had his passion gone? His verve? His formidable zest for life?

Edison shrugged, not even enthusiastic enough to bother with an utterance, but he did grab a screwdriver off the bench behind him and start removing the springs. Strands of silvery clock springs danced in the light as he pulled them out by the fistful.

His elbows and knees brushed against her as he worked. The heat from his body reminded her painfully of the velvety feel of his skin against hers.

Tears threatened. She inched away, trying not to give in to the urge to rush to the far side of the room, away from the painful memories. Away from him.

And yet he seemed unaffected by her nearness. He worked away at the renovations, intent on the task at hand, curiously distant from his emotions.

“Let’s try it now.” He stepped over the pile of clock springs surrounding the mechanical man and moved to the safe housing her battery.

A few spins of the dial, and the safe opened. The muscles in his forearm flexed as he hefted the heavy device and bent down to maneuver it into the automaton.

“Hand me those wires, would you?” he asked, his head inside the machine.

Ada scooped up the insulated wires and pressed them into his waiting hand.

A few more connections made, and he backed away from the hole and closed the hatch. “All right. Let’s power it up.” He flicked the switch.

Silence.

Just as she was certain it wouldn’t work, the round body shuddered and rumbled to life. The arms rose slowly, jerkily toward the sky, as if hesitant to move. The rumble intensified, rising to a high-pitched shriek, like the whistling of a kettle. Mechanical arms now at shoulder height, the whole device lurched forward, only to seize up and topple over.

After one last agonizing moan, the motor stopped.

“See?” Edison raked a hand through his hair, making it stand on end. “I told you it wouldn’t work.”

“It worked for a moment,” Ada said.

“You call that working?”

She gritted her teeth until her jaw ached. “Is this what you do when things don’t go smoothly? Give up?”

Edison’s eyes narrowed, and his expression became carefully blank. “I assume you’re referring to the butler?” He threw up his hands. “It’s too much power. Your battery puts out too much power for the gears.”

“We’ll re-gear it then.”

He gave a weak shrug. “If you insist.”

Ada clamped her mouth down on an angry retort. The automaton would make a fantastic demonstration. Couldn’t he see that?

Suddenly she wanted this. Wanted to make a statement. Wanted to do something exciting with her work. Something flashy and bold and fantastical.

She nudged him out of the way and bent to examine the automaton’s innards, searching for a clue to their failure.

Edison stepped back to the workbench and folded his arms across his chest, glowering at nothing in particular.

Ada ignored him. Let him pout. Let him withdraw into the safety of anger and cynicism. Maybe if she showed him the way, he’d drop this absurd shell of indifference and enjoy the last few days they had together.

Maybe not.

Either way there wasn’t much she could do about his sour mood.

She pulled a wisp of dust from the top of the automaton’s cone-like head and opened the back hatch, studying the maze of wire. “Here. It looks like this connection came apart.”

She twisted the end of the wire back into its receptacle, closed the hatch, and rocked back on her heels. “There’s plenty of power left in the battery. Start it again.”

Edison grumbled, but he reached for the power switch and flicked it on.

This time, the mechanical shuddered straight to life. Ada caught the trace of a smile on Edison’s face as the brass wheels engaged and the figure jolted forward before making a sharp turn. The arms once again rose until they were perpendicular to the floor, but the added weight out away from the body accelerated the turn, making the poor thing spin about at an alarming speed.