“No, no, no!” Guillermo yelled and crossed the floor to the control panel in an instant. I had never seen him lose his temper, but he did now, yelling, “Hijo de la chingada!” as he started flipping switches and turning dials to get the machine to revive.
Our backs were to the door, so when I heard it open, I assumed it was Carmelita, maybe having had trouble finding the phone. I didn’t bother looking, though, so focused was I on Guillermo and his attempts to reverse the breakdown—as well as the problem of having a rat and a mechanical dog suddenly lost in a different world.
But when I heard the woman’s voice behind us, I knew it wasn’t Carmelita.
“You’ll put your hands up, please.”
Ice ran up my spine and into my scalp.
I knew it was Elsa before I could turn.
“Hands up!” she said, more sharply.
Guillermo and I exchanged glances, and I saw fear replace anger in the old man’s eyes. He probably saw the same in mine although I’d like to think he mistook it for determination.
We did as we’d been told, raising our hands in the air.
Satisfied at this, Elsa said, “All right. Turn slowly toward me.”
We did. Elsa Schwartz stood framed in the doorway. Her black hair looked a bit unkempt, and the trench coat she wore was rumpled, but her cruel smile was the same as it had ever been. My focus wasn’t so much on her appearance as much as it was on the barrel of her zapper I was staring down. The sight of it made me flinch as I recalled the jolts of pain I’d suffered in our previous encounters.
She nodded and gave me a sickeningly satisfied grin. With her free hand, she reached behind her and pulled the sliding door closed. Then she nodded toward the dead machine and said, “You’ve built it. I didn’t think you’d be able to break the old man’s codes.”
“We didn’t break them,” Guillermo said, and I was afraid he was going to say it had been Carmelita who’d seen through the complexities of Klaus Lang’s encryption, her brain having been modeled on a German code machine. But then, to his credit, he said, “It doesn’t work. It’s just a model. From the picture.”
His eyes must have shifted unconsciously toward the workbench, as I saw Elsa’s dart in that direction for a moment and then back at us. She’d looked smug when she’d gotten us to turn around, but now she looked positively triumphant, and I knew she’d spotted Klaus Lang’s notebook on the workbench.
“You got it back,” she said. “Impressive. Who was that idiot who threw up in my car?”
“Someone who’s worth a hell of a lot more than you,” I said. Then, remembering what Guillermo had told me about Carmelita being able to reproduce the notebook from memory, I said, “Why don’t you just take it back to your handlers in the fatherland and be done with us?”
“The fatherland,” she echoed, and I thought I heard more than a little contempt in the way she said it. Then she confirmed it by adding, “The Reich never should have given in when they saw that both sides had the bomb. The war was never about compromise. It’s time for new players to take the field.”
For the first time, I realized she wasn’t wearing her swastika armband.
Gone rogue, I thought. Probably looking to sell to the highest bidder. Who though?
“What do you want?” Guillermo asked, putting an end to my inner monologue.
She stared at him, sizing him up, I thought. “So, you’re the genius,” she finally said.
Rather than let her engage with Guillermo and get any more information than she already had, I said, “You need to go, Elsa. Take what you want and get out of here.”
“Quiet!” she barked, and she hit the trigger on her zapper.
It felt like someone had given me a forceful shove in the sternum, but that was it. No pain.
Elsa looked confused, and I’m sure it was now my turn to look smug and triumphant as I recalled the disk Guillermo had made and which I’d been carrying around absent-mindedly since Friday. Clearly, the little disk had just saved me from a serious shock.
It took Elsa only a few seconds to regroup. The scientist had just gotten some data. Her next step, obviously, was to collect some more. The problem was that her method of data collection involved aiming the zapper at Guillermo and pulling the trigger without warning.
The old man cried out and collapsed, his legs folding under him as he hit the floor.
“Guillermo!” I shouted and lurched toward him.
But Elsa stopped me with a shout. “Don’t touch him! Take another step and he gets it again.”
I complied, half crouched in my effort to reach my fallen friend. Turning, I eyed her icily and weighed the wisdom of reaching for my gun.
It was like she read my mind. Her free hand was in and out of her trench coat in seconds, and I was now looking at the muzzle of a little black gun with a wide barrel, the kind that fired bullets. No trickery from Garcia Industries was going to spare me if she decided to fire on me now.
She had me, and she knew it. Her smile said it all.
“Why did this not work on you?” she asked, waggling the zapper but still keeping it aimed at Guillermo.
“I don’t know,” I said.
She stopped waggling and held her wrist steady, ready to zap Guillermo again.
I couldn’t let her do it.
“Wait!” I yelled. Then, putting up my empty hands to implore her to remain calm, I said, “Just wait a second.” Reaching into my coat pocket, I felt the disk. I also felt Leonora Rigsby’s fancy pen. Rather than grab the disk, I pulled out the pen. “Guillermo made this for me,” I said. “I don’t know how it works, but it blocks the energy from gizmos like that one.”
I held the pen up but kept most of it concealed in my fist, hoping she wouldn’t be able to get too good a look at it.
“How is it powered?” she asked.
“Like I said, I don’t know.”
She shook her head and pointed the zapper at Guillermo again. “How?”
Then things clicked together in my mind. “That’s what you wanted, wasn’t it? When you came here last night? Finding the book was just luck, but what you really wanted was to find out how Guillermo powered his flying truck. The phone. That gun I used on you when we first met.”
I could have added Carmelita and Joaquin to the list, but I didn’t need to.
She stared at me, her head cocked a little. I could tell she was pondering the wisdom of confirming or denying what I’d just said. In the end, she opted for silence.
I, on the other hand, opted to poke a little more.
“You couldn’t get what you wanted by sneaking around in the middle of the night, so you came back and went for firepower this time.” And, to add a little more insult, I finished with, “Did you wait around until Carmelita left to come in here with your little gun? You learned the hard way last time you’ve got no defense against her, after all.”
Appearing unfazed, she repeated her question. “The power source, Mr. Strait?”
I nodded toward Guillermo, prone on the floor. “He’s got all the secrets. And you took him out of the game for a little while. Zap him again and you’re not likely to find anything out. He’s got a heart condition, you know.” This last was a lie, but I figured it couldn’t hurt to plant a little doubt in her mind—anything to keep her finger off the zapper’s trigger.
Tipping her chin toward the workbench, she said, “Get me the book. Give it to me along with your little shield.”
She kept her gun trained on me as I moved toward the counter, having to step over Guillermo’s legs as I went. I grabbed the book and turned toward her, knowing she’d have to put one of her weapons down to accept what she’d demanded of me. Most likely, it would be the zapper. Since there was no chance she was going to take the book and the pen and go, I knew I had to do something to change the situation, and disarming her of the pistol was my only option. If she kept the upper hand, she’d find a way to torture the truth about Chavezium out of Guillermo when he regained consciousness, a
nd once she had that…there was a chance neither Guillermo nor I would see the sunrise.
I took a step toward her, watching as she started lowering the zapper, just as I’d hoped. A few more steps closer, and I’d be able to toss the notebook toward her face as a distraction and then come in with the pen. It wouldn’t serve as much of a weapon, but if I jabbed at her hard enough with it, I could do enough damage to be able to pull the gun from my shoulder holster and finish the job of subduing her—or something more forceful if she pushed me. There was a very good chance she’d get off at least one shot in the commotion I was about to initiate, but I was hoping she’d be caught off guard enough to have bad aim, especially if I came at her fast and without warning.
Another step, and the zapper lowered farther. When it was back in her pocket, I’d lunge.
And that was when the floor started to vibrate.
It wasn’t an earthquake.
It was the crossover machine humming back to life of its own accord, the malfunction that had shut it down apparently having run its course.
I froze as both weapons were aimed at me again, and then I caught Elsa’s gaze—triumphant and smug and at the same time moved almost to humor. Foolish though it might have been to look away from a loaded gun, I couldn’t help shifting my gaze to the machine, its neon lights aglow again. And then, when Perdida came bounding through the opening, the squirming pack still on her back, Elsa gave in and laughed—probably in part at the absurdity of the way Guillermo’s lie had been tipped on its head but also as an expression of the joy she was going to get in taking the machine for her own use.
Indicating the pen and book, she said, “Just set those down.” It was clear she was no longer interested in lowering either weapon to accept anything from me, not with the greater prize now within her grasp.
I did as I’d been told, putting the book and pen on a box of electrical parts.
“I will ask you one last time, Mr. Strait,” she said. “What is the power source?”
The phrase, “My good looks” was about to slip out when I heard Guillermo from his spot on the floor. He groaned and managed to say, “Lobo.”
Elsa’s patience apparently at its end, she pressed the trigger on her zapper again, this time aimed at me, and again I felt nothing more than the sensation of being pushed hard, this time in the shoulder.
“Enough!” she shouted and took aim with the regular handgun.
“All right!” I shouted back. Then, a bit more calmly, repeated, “All right. I still have the real blocker in my pocket.” Nodding to the pen, I added, “That was…nothing.”
“Give it to me. Slowly.”
Knowing there was a very good chance she was going to pull one or both triggers once I’d given her the disk, going slowly wasn’t a problem. I told myself it might be my last act on this or any world, so I took my time, hoping some sort of inspiration would come to me. None did.
I withdrew the polymer disk and set it on the box of parts next to the book and pen.
Then, without ceremony, Elsa zapped me.
The shock was profound, the pain a searing burn that passed across and through my whole body in an instant. Maybe I lost consciousness for a few seconds. Had I been older and a little less robust, I’m sure I would have gone out all the way as Guillermo had. Regardless, I crumpled to the floor. It was all I could do to stifle the gasp that I knew she’d find so satisfying.
In an instant, Perdida was putting her muzzle in my face, licking my cheek. I wanted to push the little dog away, but it hurt too much to move my arms.
Looking up, I saw that Elsa had gathered up the book, the pen, and the disk and was now staring at the crossover machine with an expression that I can describe only as one of lust. This wasn’t sexual, though. And it wasn’t the mere lust for power that had driven so many of her superiors to come close to wrecking the whole world. It appeared almost to be a narcissistic lust for Elsa Schwartz, a realization that she stood at the edge of godhood, the thrill of which was practically orgasmic.
When she pulled her eyes away to find mine fixed on her, she said, “Where does it lead?” in a tone of reverence so quiet I could barely hear her above the hum of the machine.
I knew Guillermo and I were dead men.
The machine was too valuable to her for it to be left here, and it was too big and heavy for her to cart it out of Chavez Ravine in the trunk of her car. Now that she was separating from the Reich that had proved itself too tame for her tastes, moving the machine would take coordination and help from whomever she’d made overtures to. And none of that was going to work if she had to keep an eye on Guillermo and me.
If I’d had all my faculties operating, I’d have gone for my gun, but my right arm was pinned under my body, and getting it freed was going to take an act of coordination I didn’t think I’d be capable of for a while.
Without a weapon, all I had left were my wits.
“You don’t want to go through there,” I said, channeling the real fear and distress I was feeling and doing my best to make it seem like the gateway was the thing that had me keyed up, not the fact that Elsa so clearly had the upper hand now.
She took a few steps toward the machine, eyeing it appreciatively. Then she turned her gaze back toward me. “Why not?”
I shook my head. “It’s…it’s terrible through there. Guillermo sent a camera across. It’s nothing like this world. More of a nightmare.”
She smiled at this. Then she crouched down and reached out with her gun, touching the barrel to my forehead. “I don’t believe you, Mr. Strait. Not for a moment.”
The sweat that began beading on my forehead was not the product of any acting on my part. Somehow, I managed to say, “Why not? Why would I lie at a time like this?”
“Because you want to get rid of me. If that gateway opened onto a world that was so horrible, you wouldn’t tell me. You’d be encouraging me to go.”
She smiled as she said it, and I knew she wasn’t just enjoying the sight of me squirming but also the feeling of her finger on the trigger, my life just a little squeeze away, completely within her control.
“The truth now, Mr. Strait. Where did the little dog go? What’s over there that you don’t want me to see?”
I stayed silent as long as I could stand it, which wasn’t long. Then I shifted my gaze away from her cruel eyes and, shame in my voice, said, “In that world…your side won.”
“My side?”
Barely able to choke out the words, I gave her what she wanted. “The Nazis. Hitler. You won. It’s…it’s a whole Nazi world. Swastikas hanging from all the buildings. Americans raising their arms in salute to the Reich when the big black cars roll through the streets.”
Next to me on the floor, I heard Guillermo groan again.
“Lobo. Don’t.”
I ignored him and brought my eyes back to Elsa. She was watching me with cold amusement. After a moment, she pulled the gun away from my head and stood. Still pointing the weapon at me, she said, “Your life would be better off without me in it, Mr. Strait. Why not tell me right away that the world on the other side of that gateway is perfect for me? Why try to keep me here?”
Keeping eye contact with her, I said, “One Elsa Schwartz in this world is bad enough. Knowing there are two in that other world…I don’t want that kind of guilt. Plus, if you go through there now, I never get the chance to kill you.”
Her expression shifted a little, going over almost to admiration. “You want me dead so badly? You’re armed, I’m sure. Why don’t you kill me now?”
“Another three or four minutes to recover from your zapper, and I might give it a try.”
She nodded. “I don’t think so,” she said, and for a moment I thought she was going to go ahead and pull the trigger.
But then she stood up. The gun still trained on me, she walked toward the machine.
Go through, I thought. Go through, go through. And as the thought echoed in my mind, I calculated how much strength I’d actually
gotten back. Maybe enough to get to the controls and kill the machine as soon as she was on the other side. But able to do it fast enough to keep her from stepping onto this side again once she’d gotten a glimpse? For all I knew, the Los Angeles of the other side was a bucolic paradise, all fields and flowers with nothing resembling a swastika anywhere in the whole world. If she saw something like that, she’d come back with her gun blazing. It was up to me to stop her, and I wasn’t sure I was ready for that yet.
Elsa appeared not in the mood to give me a chance.
She put a foot through the ring of light and drew it back, seemingly unhurt. Then she gave me one more smile that had me worried she was about to shoot me out of spite before putting the foot and one leg all the way through into the other side.
And that was when the workshop door slid open again. Carmelita stepped inside, saying, “We got a few miles away and I realized the phone’s antenna wasn’t…” She took in the scene before her—Guillermo and me on the floor, Perdida happily curled at Guillermo’s feet, Elsa halfway through to another world with her gun still aimed at my head—and the last word she’d meant to say trailed off: “…there.”
It took her only a second to react, maybe less. I expect that myriad signals flooded her circuits in that time—a protective urge in response to seeing Guillermo in distress, possibly a similar urge at seeing the gun aimed at me, the memories of her past encounters with Elsa including the one where a gun went off and a bullet ripped harmlessly through Carmelita’s chest. This last had been suppressed in her mechanical mind, but for all I knew it came to the fore now. Whatever the reason and whatever the process, Carmelita gave not a moment’s pause but charged across the cluttered workshop toward Elsa, murder in her eyes.
I had looked away from Elsa when the door had opened, and now I looked back in time to see that Elsa’s gun barrel had shifted away from me and was now aimed in Carmelita’s direction. The German’s expression was a blend of fear, surprise, and triumphant joy.
The Shakedown Shuffle: A Dieselpunk Adventure (The Crossover Case Files Book 3) Page 22