Arcadia Snips and the Steamwork Consortium by Robert Rodgers

first time he has nearly blown us all to kingdom come."
    "Is there any place Basil might have kept notes on his latest project? Maybe something he had yet to submit to you, or research notes outside of his workshop?"
    "If so, I am unaware of it. Copper rarely submitted his projects for approval, because he knew I would not approve them."
    Mr. Eddington opened his desk, withdrawing a rather large and intimidating pile of paperwork. "There are several matters I must attend to. Please pardon me if I cut this interview short."
    "Sure."
    "Perhaps Mr. Copper kept some of his notes at his home?
    You should check there. In the meanwhile, I have work to do.
    Good day, Miss Snips."
    Snips rose to her feet. "Thanks for the hint. I'll keep it in mind."
    ~*~
    Not long after Snips had left his office, Mr. Eddington stood and locked the door to his office. He then returned to his desk and pressed a switch hidden on the side of a drawer. At once, the bookcase gave a gentle hiss as hydraulic pumps edged it forward and to the side. In a narrow niche behind it, a spiral staircase was tucked away. It led deep into the basement of the Steamwork.
    Mr. Eddington stepped through the passage, carefully making his way below. When he reached the lowest chamber, he was greeted by the sight of Dunnigan mopping the stone tiled floor.
    "Mr. McGee."
    "Oh, good evenin' Mr. Eddington," Dunnigan said, throwing the man a quick smile. "Didn't quite see you coming—"
    "I have told you to never use my entrance during the Steamwork's operating hours. If anyone of importance had seen you disappear into my office, the results could have been catastrophic."
    Dunnigan frowned and nodded his head. "Well, I'm sorry about that, Mr. Eddington. I just figured—"
    "I don't pay you to figure," Mr. Eddington cut him off. "As it was, we were fortunate it was merely a woman who noticed your entry."
    Mr. Eddington stepped past Dunnigan, not noticing the face that the janitor made at his back. He stepped through into the Steamwork's Vault—a chamber that lay far beneath even the deeply buried calculation engine.

    The fact that the Steamwork had a basement beneath its basement was a fact that not many were privy to. Not even William knew of its existence—and with good reason. It was a laboratory choked in dust and secrets, containing several cases in which marvels were kept under glass—preserved and cleaned, disassembled and analyzed. Mr. Eddington paused at the mouth of the room's entrance, reluctant to enter. Though he knew the idea to be absurd, he could not shake the feeling that the laboratory's previous master had left some trap for the unwary to blunder into.

    Mr. Eddington threw off the sensation. He knew every inch of this room—every centimeter . There was not a particle of dirt present that he had not categorized and neatly labeled. Which was why the other man's presence here was so disarming.
    "Mr. Eddington," a voice laced with menace and metal spoke from the back of the room. "Good afternoon."
    Mr. Eddington grimaced. How on earth did the bastard keep getting in here without someone noticing? Certainly, Mr. McGee should have seen him enter. Could there be a secret entrance that Mr. Eddington was unaware of? Or was the man always here, sleeping until he arrived—merely another of the previous owner's miraculous machines?
    "Good evening, sir," Mr. Eddington responded as politely as he could. "I received your missive, and told Miss Snips what you suggested."
    The man stepped forward. Aside from his suit, he only possessed two articles of note—a black jackal mask rimmed in gold and a delicate paper butterfly lapel. The mask distorted his voice into a metal hum, making it impossible to determine his identity. It was one of many unnecessary theatrics that Mr. Eddington had learned to cope with.

    Mr. Eddington secretly meets with the Masked Menace.

    "Excellent," the jackal said. "And Mr. Tweedle?"
    "Hardly a concern," Mr. Eddington said. "He is easily cowed