said.
“Don’t worry,” Merkam said. “That’s where the transmogrifier comes in. We very finely control the flow of the electromagnetic spectrum around this ship. When the steel ball inside the transmogrifier spins, it travels at amazing speeds. As it does, the magnets surrounding it are fed varying amounts of electrical current, thanks to Mister Tesla’s theories—”
“Aha! So you admit that you are using my patent!”
“Not even close,” Merkam said to Tesla. “I took some of your early theories and expanded upon them.” To the remainder of his company he continued, “Instead of completely divorcing ourselves from the Earth, we do so only partially, enough to give us buoyancy in the atmosphere. Once outside the atmosphere, we actually attune ourselves to the Moon, and appear to it as a bullet directed at its heart. But that is enough for now. Allow me to conduct you to the bridge, where you can see more clearly how we are to fly.”
“I want to see the robots,” Billy said. Merkam’s bullet-to-the-heart language was enough to freeze the blood in his veins.
The crowd ignored him and Merkam began the long climb to the apex of the structure. Billy turned to go back down alone. He’d already seen the bridge. Maybe he’d find Ekka and have a talk with her.
As he turned to go down the steps, he didn’t see the long gaze of Abigail Ross following his every movement.
[ 7 ]
Billy could not find Ekka anywhere with the ship or the shop beneath it. He made his way across the compound to Merkam House and went in through the kitchen, the only entrance he ever used.
He found Ekka in Merkam’s voluminous library, looking through a stack of books on Russian history.
“Thought I might find you here,” he said.
She looked up from one of the easy chairs and her eyes settled on Billy. She held her gaze steady on him. The reading light illuminated her features—her high cheekbones, her narrow eyebrows, the perfect bow of her lips.
“And why is that, Billy Gostman? I never told you I liked to read.”
“I know. But you strike me as a smart woman, and smart women read.”
“And you have known many smart women?”
“A few,” he said.
Ekka closed the book and set it aside. “You wanted to speak with me?”
“I got bored with the tour, actually. I wanted to invite you for a stroll.”
“Strolls are dangerous things, Billy.”
“Are you talking about bad men trying to attack you while out for a simple walk? They wouldn’t dare, with me along.”
“I was possibly referring to good men trying to attack me. I do not respond well to attacks.”
Billy’s face flushed. Was he that transparent? Of course, any woman would see the invitation for a walk as an advance, and this woman was no fool.
“Doesn’t matter to me which one of us does the attacking,” he said.
A moment passed while she pondered how she was going to respond. Then, “Maybe later. I get so few chances to read, and I have not seen these books in any library outside of Russia and Europe. This is our last day, and tomorrow we will be too busy making preparations. Some other time. Would that be suitable?”
“Just being neighborly. I think I’ll go into town, wet my whistle.”
“Don’t drink too much of your American whiskey,” she said, when he turned to go.
“I won’t.”
Before Billy made it out the Library door, she said, “That was not a rebuff, Billy. That was a maybe. For the future.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” Billy touched the brim of his hat. “That’s enough for me.”
[ 8 ]
The Silver Dollar Saloon had a smattering of clients that evening. There was a game of poker going on across the room, but it appeared to be low stakes. A couple of trail-dusty youths from a cattle drive on its way to Montana were in a drinking contest at the end of the bar, and it looked as though they had been engaged in that contest for some time. The pair had edged toward the passing-out stage, and when Billy
Learning to Kill: Stories