The Mech Who Loved Me(91)

His mech-suit. Kincaid frowned, wondering how Malloryn found out about it. "It's something to do in my spare time."

"Is it?" Malloryn picked up his spring-pen again. "A curious choice of hobby for a man who derides his physical limits. Are you sure your mind's not trying to tell you something?"



* * *

Play to his strengths. He could do that.

After pacing the house for the next half hour, Kincaid found himself in the basement, or what they affectionately referred to as Dungeon II, after Malloryn moved them from the first compromised safe house. It was no enclave, but not too shabby in itself, with every tool he could possibly want. He couldn't stop thinking about what Malloryn had said. Jack blinked up at him through a set of goggles, as if wondering why he was there. 

The other man wore a mask covering the lower half of his face, with a filtration device to purify the air he breathed. Scars disfigured his face, and Kincaid had heard Jack's lungs were affected too, but the man had the kind of hands that could build anything, and a voice like a circus ringmaster. "Here to finish your project?"

"I haven't had a chance to look at it in over a week," Kincaid said, crossing to the corner he'd taken for himself and ripping the sheet off his project. A full mech-suit gleamed in the bright lights Jack had installed.

It wasn't finished. He'd been hesitating to solder the final joints together, tinkering with the small steam-engine component that drove it, even though it was ready. A mechanical suit to reinforce a man's body, with pistons in the leg guards that could force a man's legs to work if they were feeble, and overlapping steel plates to protect his inner organs. He wasn't sure why he'd started making it. Or no... that wasn't strictly true.

His legs would fail, his muscles turning traitor on him at some stage. His leg braces kept him moving so far, but soon enough they wouldn't be strong enough to hold him up. Even now, he could feel the faint tremor in his calves, and stairs would one day be the bane of his existence. Kincaid ran the pads of his fingers over the chest piece. A suit like this meant an independent life for as long as he could strap himself into it.

But if one looked at it in another way, it was also a means to give a man mechanical strength his own body couldn't provide, as well as protection from injury. With this, Kincaid could leap off roofs, punch his way through a brick wall, and deflect any blow from a blue blood.

Jack slid his magnifying goggles atop his head and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Are you going to finish it today?"

"Not much else to do." Malloryn had set his spies into action, and Ava needed rest. By himself, he couldn't work out the science behind Ava's assumptions. He needed her quicksilver mind and defiant focus. The Nighthawks were keeping an eye on the city, and they'd be contacted the moment another Black Vein case came up, but for now... he needed something mindless to do.

"I like it," Jack said, admiring his work. "Not a Cyclops-nowhere near as heavy, for example, but it will give you greater maneuverability, and the smaller size makes it more versatile. Are you thinking of getting a patent for it? I know a great many factories would see a use in making a single man as strong as an ox, and I'm sure those who work in law enforcement would appreciate the added protection and strength."

He hadn't thought so far ahead. Kincaid dragged on his gloves slowly. A patent on something like this and a means to manufacture it would provide enough money for Orla to pay for proper care for Ian-and give her a damned rest every now and then. There'd be risks involved-he hadn't a clue how to get started, but it was a spark of inspiration. "Now there's an idea."

"You'd need a partner." Jack circled the suit. "Someone mechanically minded."

"Anyone you know?" Kincaid slowly smiled. Jack had been one of the masterminds behind the Cyclops.

"Possibly." Jack's eyes creased in a smile the mask hid. "And a backer... preferably a rich one."

A grimace. "If you're suggesting I go talk to Malloryn-"

"He's got the funds, he's a duke, he has influence, and he's very likely uninterested in controlling a business something like this would need." Jack sucked in a slow breath through his mask. "My sister is married to a duke too. But there's certainly no harm in talking to Malloryn. He's quite forward-thinking, for a blue blood."



       
         
       
        

For a blue blood. It wasn't as though he was growing to like Malloryn, but... the duke wasn't as bad as he sometimes made out. None of the blue blood Rogues were. Kincaid stared at the suit, then glanced at Jack. "You were a humanist once. What do you make of all of this?"