“Don’t worry,” Bell said gently, “you’ll catch up.”
The tall detective motioned one of the Van Dorns on her support train to join him. “Any idea why that flap fell off the wing?”
“She got caught in a pocket tornado.”
“I know that. But could the hinge have been weakened beforehand?”
“Sabotage? First thing I looked for, Mr. Bell. Fact is, that machine’s never been out of our sight on the ground. Mr. Abbott made that darned clear. We watched like hawks for sabotage. We slept next to it at Belmont. With one man always awake.”
Andy and his helper arrived in a Thomas Flyer via a ferry from the Palisades of New Jersey before Josephine’s mechanicians were finished. They drove it up the ramp into the American Eagle Special, and Bell sent the train ahead.
It was noon before Josephine could take to the sky.
She circled the grandstand for Weiner of Accounting’s deputy to record her departure time, climbed to a thousand feet, and headed north. Isaac Bell flew a little above and a quarter mile behind. His race map said it was a hundred and forty miles to Albany’s Altamont Fair Grounds. The route was easy to follow, the New York Central Railroad tracks hugging the east bank of the river, until, above the city of Hudson, he saw a number of short lines merge in from the east. At that confusing junction, the race stewards had marked the correct tracks to follow with long white canvas arrows.
The two monoplanes proceeded north without incident, eventually overtaking Bell’s white-roofed Eagle Special train, which was loafing along waiting for them to catch up. The fireman shoveled on a little more coal to keep pace with the flying machines.
Suddenly, ten miles short of Albany, Bell saw Josephine drop in a steep volplane.
Isaac Bell followed her down in a longer series of descending loops and was still high up when she alighted on a freshly mown hayfield outside the village of Castleton-on-Hudson. Through his field glasses, he could see why she had found a place to land. Steam was gushing from the Antoinette. Something had gone wrong with the motor’s water cooling.
Bell swung back toward the New York Central tracks. He flew low over the Eagle Special and pointed where he’d come from, and then spotted the yellow-roofed Josephine Special, which was highballing to catch up. He swooped in front of the locomotive and turned in the direction where Josephine was. The train stopped at the next siding, where the Van Dorn had already parked. Brakemen jumped down, waving a red flag in back and throwing a switch in front so the special could pull off the main line.
Bell alighted beside Josephine and told her that help was on the way. It came aboard two roadsters, Preston Whiteway’s Rolls-Royce, with two detective-mechanicians, who got straight to work on her machine, and Bell’s Model 35 Thomas Flyer, with Andy Moser, who replenished gas and castor oil and adjusted the Gnome. Josephine’s problem turned out to be more complicated than a broken water hose. The entire water pump was shot. The Thomas Flyer raced back to the train to get the new part.
“Mr. Bell,” said Andy, “it’s going to take them two hours at least.”
“Looks that way.”
“Could I ask you a favor?”
“Of course,” said Bell, hand deep in his pocket, thinking Andy needed a loan. “What do you need?”
“Take me up.”
“Flying?” Bell said, puzzled, because Andy was terrified of heights and never wanted to fly. “Are you sure, Andy?”
“Don’t you realize where we are?”
“Ten miles short of Albany.”
“Twenty miles west of Danielle. I was wondering could we fly over that Ryder Asylum, and you waggle the wings and maybe Danielle will see us?”
“It’s the least we can do. Spin her over and hop on. We’ll buzz by real close.”
Bell was not surprised that Andy had a map. The lovesick mechanician had even marked the asylum with a red heart. They found a rail line they could follow into the closest town and took off, Andy squeezed in behind him, reading the map. At sixty miles per hour and boosted by a west wind, Bell was in sight of the gloomy red brick building in less than twenty minutes. He circled it repeatedly. A face appeared at every barred window. One of them had to be Danielle’s. A flying machine was a startling sight for the vast majority of people outside a big city who had never seen one. The halls were probably alive with inmates, nurses, and guards, gawking, exclaiming. The Gnome’s distinctive exhaust sound would surely alert Danielle that it was her father’s machine even if she could not see it.
Poor Andy’s face expressed a jumble of joy and sadness, excitement and frustration.
“I’m sure she hears us!” Bell shouted.
Andy nodded, understanding Bell was only trying to help. Bell descended deeper into the valley and circled close over the turret where he had interviewed Danielle in Ryder’s private rooms. He checked the railroad watch he had hung from the king post. Plenty of time and fuel, he thought. Why not kill two birds with one stone: give poor Andy a break, and ask Danielle about the death of her father.
The lawn was broad inside the wall. He put the Eagle down easily. Guards came running, urged on by Dr. Ryder, who glued a smile to his face at the unwelcome sight of Isaac Bell.
“Quite an entrance, Mr. Bell.”
“We’ve come to visit Miss Di Vecchio.”
“Of course, Mr. Bell. She’ll need a moment to get ready.”
“Bring her out here. I imagine she will enjoy a breath of fresh air.”
“As you wish. I’ll bring her shortly.”
Andy was staring at the bleak structure, with its small barred windows. “That man doesn’t like you,” he observed.
“No, he doesn’t.”
“But he obeys you.”
“He has no choice. He knows that I know his banker. And he knows that if he ever harms a hair on Danielle’s head, I will paste him in the snoot.”
The first thing Bell noticed about Danielle was that her white patient’s dress was brand-new. The second was that she regarded Andy Moser more like a kid brother than a boyfriend. He backed away to let them have a moment together. Andy was tongue-tied. Bell called, “Andy, why don’t you show Danielle what you’ve done to her father’s machine?”
Andy fell to the task eagerly, and Danielle walked around it with him, oohing and ahhing, and stroking the canvas with her fingertips. “Many improvements,” she announced at last. “Is she still temperamental, Mr. Bell?”
“Andy’s turned her into a lamb,” said Bell. “She’s rescued me more than once.”
“I never realized you already knew how to fly.”
“He’s still learning,” Andy said grimly.
“Your father built a real sweetheart,” said Bell. “She’s amazingly strong. The other day, a stay was damaged, and the others held together for it.”
“Elastico!” said Danielle.
“Was your father elastico?” Bell asked gently.
Her big eyes lighted in happy memory. “Like biglia. India-rubber ball. Rimbalzare! He bounced.”
“Were you shocked how he died?”
“That he killed himself? No. If you stretch banda too much, too many times, it breaks. A man breaks when too much goes bad. But before, he was rimbalzare. Is Josephine piloting Celere’s monoplano in the race?”
“Yes.”
“How does she fare?”