24
One Hundred Crates
—1892, August 10: 8-Hour 41—
Pockets of the manufacturing industry had already appeared by the time of the Disruption—in Lowell, in Boston itself, and in Rhode Island. But after the Disruption these pockets expanded, and in the vicinity of Boston several areas became dedicated exclusively to the manufacturing of dyes, textiles, Goodyears, Goodyear boots, and so on. Because the harbor provided an easy method for the deposit of waste, many such manufactories developed along the wharf, occupying space in a manner that soon drove out other businesses.
—From Shadrack Elli’s History of New Occident
THE WAREHOUSES STOOD side by side near the water, and the open door of one gave Shadrack hope. An open door indicated less concealment, and less concealment meant less danger. The warehouses were brick, four stories high, with dusty windows. No sign or nameplate indicated their purpose. When a man in a checked vest stepped outside to pack a pipe, Shadrack decided to make his move.
He approached the man directly and raised a hand in greeting. To his surprise, the man recognized him. “Minister Elli!” he said amiably. A heavy mustache and sallow cheeks greeted him beneath a brimmed hat.
Shadrack searched his memory, but he could not place the man’s face. “Good morning. How are you?” he asked noncommittally.
“Very well, Mr. Elli. Always glad to see the Minister of Relations with Foreign Ages. Excuse me”—he corrected himself—“and War Cartologer. You won’t know me, sir, but I certainly know you. Ben Ferguson, at your service. All of us here are very proud to work for you.”
A confused Shadrack shook the man’s offered hand.
Ben had tucked his unsmoked pipe into the pocket of his vest when he saw Shadrack approaching. Now he gestured to the open door of the warehouse with a wide smile that showed a row of tobacco-stained teeth. “Would you like to see how the work is proceeding, Mr. Elli?”
“Please call me Shadrack, Ben. As for the work—that’s the reason I’ve come,” Shadrack said as he struggled to make sense of the unexpected reception.
“Excellent!” Ben said, with genuine excitement. “Come in. Everyone will be delighted to meet you.”
Shadrack followed Ben into a vast room that ran the length of the building. Wooden crates were stacked high, making tidy aisles. They stretched from one wall to another. “Here’s the storeroom,” Ben said, gesturing expansively to the crates. “Everything packed and ready to go. We keep an inventory here on a peg by the door, so every crate is accounted for. We have one hundred awaiting distribution at this very moment. Not a one has gone missing, you’ll be glad to know.”
“Very impressive,” Shadrack said, a sense of unease simmering in his stomach.
“Through here we connect to the other building,” Ben said, winding his way through the crates. At the far end of the aisle was an open door that led to a narrow alley, and Shadrack followed Ben across the alley into the neighboring warehouse. Here there was more activity. On benches beside long tables, arranged all through the room, men and women sat hunched over their work. They seemed to be sewing. At a table near the front entrance, four women were minutely inspecting what looked to Shadrack like leather pouches. Canteens? he wondered. “We know how important it is to make these well,” Ben said. “You’ll find we have very high standards, Mr. Elli. Very high. No need to worry for New Occident troops on our account.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Shadrack said, latching on to this clue. Equipment for the troops, he thought. Of course—the masks Broadgirdle ordered.
“Over here we inspect the finished gear,” Ben said, guiding him to the table where the four women worked. “Would you like to try one on?”
“Why not?”
Ben grinned toothily. “This is Minister Shadrack Elli,” he said to the women, who all stood to nod and shake hands with Shadrack, seeming pleased and a little bashful in his presence. “He’s going to try one on himself.”
“Try this one, sir,” one of the women said, handing him the leather mask. “I just looked it over, and it’s in fine shape.”
“Thank you.” Shadrack took the mask in hand. It was untanned leather with a strap at the neck. He pulled it on, fumbling more than he wished to with the awkward opening. Finally, it rested snugly on his head. He looked out at Ben through green glass eyepieces. A patch of cloth at his mouth and nose made every breath taste of starched cotton and charcoal. Ben and the four women eagerly awaited his verdict. “Very effective,” Shadrack said, with what he hoped was enthusiasm. And unbearably warm, he thought, pulling it off. He handed it back to Ben.
“So glad to hear it, Mr. Elli,” Ben said, beaming. The women looked delighted. “So glad,” he repeated. “It’s a relief to know that all these months of work have been worthwhile.”
Something in Shadrack’s unsettled mind fell into place, and the sense of unease blew open, filling him with sudden panic. “All these months?” he echoed, before he could check his words.
“Certainly, sir. We began in March, didn’t we?” Ben looked at the women for confirmation.
“That’s right, March,” they agreed.
“As you ordered, sir, correct?” Ben added, searching Shadrack’s face. “The instructions came directly from your office.”
Shadrack looked at their anxious expressions in silence, his mind working quickly with an anxiety of its own. From my office? Broadgirdle started this in March? But that means he had these masks made before he was prime minister. Before the war started. Before Bligh was murdered! Before any of it.
It could only mean that Broadgirdle had planned everything in advance: not only the murder and the war, but the crimson fog itself and the means to protect New Occident troops from its effects. This has been months in the making, he said to himself, aghast.
Abruptly, too late, he realized that he’d made a mistake. He should never have pretended to know what was happening at the warehouses. Now it would seem to Ben and everyone he had met that he was, in fact, complicit in the making of these masks. And whoever was complicit in making the masks was complicit in planning the war. Without intending to, he had made it seem as if he, Shadrack Elli, had indeed been planning this all along.
It’s exactly what Broadgirdle intended, Shadrack realized, stunned. And it’s exactly why I am still the Minister of Relations with Foreign Ages. So that I can be made accountable for all of it.