Free The Dead Gentleman by Matthew Cody Page A

machinist’s repair shop full of tools and spare parts. Spare parts to what, it was impossible to tell—she had never seen anything like it. Jez didn’t consider herself any kind of hacker whiz, but she knew the difference between a motherboard and a memory chip. But this stuff just looked like … clock guts. There were no wires to be found, or batteries. Only gears and springs.
    Bernie cleared off a portion of the couch for her to sit on and walked over to the closet on the far wall. Jezebel stiffened as he grabbed the handles.
    “Don’t worry,” he said, seeing her alarm. “It’s not that kind of closet.”
    He opened the door to reveal a small space not much deeper than her own closet. But there were no hangers or shoe racks. It was filled with shelves of funny-looking equipment. No spare parts here; these were complete gadgets, though what practical use they might have was anybody’s guess. Some kind of old-fashioned-looking gun with a net attached to its front, a number of small boxes covered in dials and strange knobs. There was a pair of goggles with blue lenses, like the kind the boy had been wearing, and they were dangling from a peg on the wall. Everything in there looked old, despite the meticulous condition it was obviously in. It reminded Jez of those antique toys you sometimes see behind collector’s glass—all the care in the world cannot erase age.
    In the center of it was what looked like a robot bird on a perch. When it swiveled its silver-feathered head to blink at Jez, she nearly shouted.
    “What … what is that?”
    “That,” said Bernie, gesturing grandly at his little assortment, “is what remains of the Explorers’ Society. A few odds and ends, some tired old tricks and our friend Merlin.”
    The bird chirped proudly as it settled on its pedestal. Its song skipped like an old scratched record.
    “Merlin?”
    “Well, he’s had several names over the years. Wei-fung, Herodotus. Merlin was what Tommy called him. Tommy being the boy you met in the basement yesterday.”
    “So, he is real!” Jez said, her earlier fear and trepidation washed away with a feeling of sudden, exhilarating
I-told-you-so
.
    “He’s real, all right,” said Bernie. “Tommy Learner was the greatest Explorer, ever. He was also the last Explorer,
ever
. Butthat’s water under the bridge, as they say. All that happened a long, long time ago. I doubt anyone even remembers his name.”
    “Remembers his name?” said Jez. “But I just saw him yesterday, and he’s no older than I am.”
    “And that, young miss, is what’s so troubling. You see, Tommy Learner has been dead for nearly a century.”
    Jez stood up, opened her mouth and shut it again. For just this once, she could think of absolutely nothing to say.
    “Sit down, Jezebel,” he said, “and I’ll tell you everything. I promise, all will be revealed.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

T OMMY
S OMEWHERE IN THE A TLANTIC O CEAN, 1900
    “We’re Explorers, Tommy,” said Captain Scott as he gave the ship’s wheel a turn. The man cut an impressive figure, standing tall in his naval cap and long shipman’s peacoat. But I have to admit that my attention wasn’t on the Captain himself. I couldn’t take my eyes off the enormous porthole behind him and the blue expanse of water beyond. We were bouncing along on top of the Atlantic Ocean.
    And I was going to be sick.
    The Captain continued. “The Explorers’ Society is a unique club. We conquered the last frontier of this planet long ago, but now we navigate far more exciting places. Adventure is always out there—you just have to know where to look!”
    I tried answering from my place on the floor, but all I managed was a low moan. The cool metal, at least, felt good against my forehead, and if I closed my eyes I didn’t have to see theroiling, lapping ocean outside. Unfortunately, I could still feel the motion, all the way from my toes to my stomach, as Captain Scott’s strange ship rode the choppy waves