The two men walked through the Fair grounds. They had both been there since it opened in the month of Witen, but now they looked at it with new eyes. It had over five thousand lights, more than ten times the amount in the city. The overcast night was chill and their breath puffed in front of them. Croaker wore a long brown duster in addition to his usual clothes and had his collar turned up against the cold. Phoebus had changed again and wore his long black wool coat and blue waistcoat, accented with a cravat with a diamond pin that matched his ring. His silver handled walking stick clicked with each step.
Couples strolled arm in arm and looked upon the wonders of the modern world. It was as bright as day and the men stepped to one side as the experimental electric streetcar rolled past, crowded with people experiencing the future of transportation. The men made their way to the Horticultural Hall, wandering past the observation tower and its electric elevators.
Croaker slowed his steps and wandered in a circle around the structure, staring at the ground. He bent and touched an area at the base, running his fingers over an indent in the cobblestones.
“Scorched,” he said.
“What does that mean?” Buckroe asked.
“It means we wait here and once the people are gone, we take a ride.”
They waited. Phoebus tipped his top hat to a group of ladies and smiled. The women tittered and dipped their parasols as he complimented them and offered a calling card and the rose from his lapel to the one he liked best. Norge grumbled as the younger man picked another rose from the display of flowers to replace the one he had given away.
In time the crowd thinned and Croaker pulled his companion into the shadows behind the elevator to avoid the patrols that made sure the grounds were empty as the Fair closed for the night.
Rounding the structure, the older man opened his coat and drew various tools from inside pockets. A small crowbar, a rubber mallet and various pliers all went into a pile beside the girder structure.
“You have all that in your coat?” Phoebus gawked.
“Yes, what do you carry in your jacket?”
“You know, snuff, money, falsified documents. The usual.”
Croaker looked up at his companion with amusement as he drew out a box with dials, meters, and vacuum tubes. Prying the elevator’s power box open, he attached two clamps from the small device onto the wires of the control system. His gizmo whirred to life, he studied it and proceeded to poke it. The tower purred as it woke from its mechanical slumber.
“Don’t you think this may attract some attention?”
“Yes, that is why, right now, the three urchins I paid are on the other side of the horticulture exhibit, creating enough ruckus that we will go unnoticed.”
“You think of everything, don’t you?” the younger man said with admiration.
Croaker snorted and detached his machine. Prying open the maintenance panel with his steel bar, he winked at his friend. “Yes, now follow me.”
After gathering the tools, they crawled into the small space which led to the open shaft of the elevator, as Phoebus grumbled about getting his trousers dirty. Rungs led downward into the depths of the earth, lit by electric lights every six meters. They descended.