“I wish you wouldn’t talk about them like that.”
“Like what?”
“Sarcastically. Becky and Steve deserve to be happy.” Especially Becky, who had endured years of physical and mental abuse from her mother. That Becky had turned out even remotely normal was a miracle in itself. That she could find someone like Steve Scherr was even more so.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You implied it.”
The ghost grunted at this. As a spirit for four thousand years, his perspective on relationships was warped. He frequently told Emma about romance in his day; back then you knocked your beloved over the head with a heavy stick and then ravished her behind some bushes. “I don’t know why it took them so long.”
“Steve was finishing his doctorate.”
“There’s a good excuse.”
“They weren’t ready to settle down until he found a job.” That job was at the Plaine Museum, where he would come to work in the botany department. Despite what Becky thought, Emma had not pulled any strings at the museum to get him the job; he was brilliant enough on his own.
“Likely story.”
Emma decided to ignore the ghost and concentrated on the warehouse. It was dark outside, but the visor turned the darkness as bright as daytime. She spent another five hours huddled atop the silo. At last she saw a pair of heavy-duty trucks rumble into the warehouse. The visor couldn’t see into the vehicles, so there was no way to know how many goons might be in the truck.
Two men emerged from the trucks to mill around inside the warehouse. These were probably the merchants with the computers. Or they might be puppets meant to confuse the police—and the Scarlet Knight—while the real transaction occurred somewhere else.
Another hour went by before Emma saw the limousine pull into the warehouse. She saw a half-dozen large men get out of the vehicle. They encircled a much smaller woman—Don Vendetta. She never seemed to run out of bodyguards. No matter how many Emma put in jail, more always remained. Despite the risk of jail time, the rewards were still too good for those with a lot of brawn but little brain to pass up.
The warehouse door closed, which left Emma unable to see anything. She studied the outside of the warehouse. The police began to move in; the dockworkers suddenly shirked their responsibilities and the boats pulled into port.
Then came the SWAT team van, followed by a line of police cruisers. These approached without lights of any kind; they proceeded slowly so no one inside would hear them. Emma’s body tensed as a part of her wished she could be in the middle of the action. But she had promised Lieutenant Donovan to be as inconspicuous as possible, which meant she couldn’t drop into the fray and take out the don’s henchmen.
She could only watch as police emerged from the SWAT vehicle and cruisers. The undercover officers closed in as well to form a perimeter around the building. With any luck, Emma would get to sit this one out and be home in time to see Becky before she went to bed.
A few minutes later, Don Vendetta ran from the warehouse. She ran not to the limousine, but to one of the heavy trucks. Emma had already jumped from the silo before the truck started towards the front doors.
As she plunged towards the ground, the golden cape billowed up to become like a parachute. With a snap she was jerked upwards for a moment before she coasted down. The don’s escape played out through her visor as she made her descent.
One thing Lieutenant Donovan hadn’t counted on was the need to stop a two-ton military-issue truck, especially one with a head of steam. Not even the SWAT machine guns could do much against the truck. While Emma watched, the don crashed through the police barricade in front of the doors. The don stepped on the gas and pushed the truck even harder in an attempt to put as much distance between her and the police as possible.
There wouldn’t be time for a pretty landing. Emma reached up to bring down the cape, which caused her to plunge towards the ground. She curled her legs up before she impacted hard enough to crack the pavement. A normal person would have shattered both legs, but the red armor protected Emma from injury.
She rolled to her feet and took off after the truck. The armor augmented her speed, but not enough for her to catch the vehicle. Her motorcycle was too far away to reach; by the time she got it, the don would have escaped.
Instead, she bounced slightly on her boots. The rubber soles of the boots propelled her forward through the air. She continued this pattern until she could see the truck. While she continued to run, she reached down to the belt on her hip. From this she produced a golden sword—the Sword of Justice. The blade glowed in the night air as she hurled it towards the truck.
The sword sliced through the air, guided towards its target by Emma’s mind. Five years on the job as the Scarlet Knight had given her enough control that she could guide the blade and continue the pursuit at the same time. With another jump, she came closer to the vehicle, enough to read the license plate through the visor.
Since it was a military-issue truck, the vehicle’s tires were bulletproof and could even survive a mine hit. What they couldn’t survive was the Sword of Justice, which could cut through any material on Earth. The golden blade cut through the rear tire on the driver’s side as if it were butter and then continued forward to do the same to the front tire.
Emma called the blade back to her hand. It caught up with her in midair as she made the final leap onto the top of the truck. She came down on the rear of the vehicle as the truck still managed to grind along, despite the lack of two tires.
With a short hop not assisted by her boots, Emma landed on the front of the truck. Then Emma plunged the Sword of Justice into the engine of the truck. It might have been able to plow along without two tires, but it couldn’t survive without an engine. The truck lurched to a halt, which nearly threw Emma in the process.
For a moment she stared at Don Vendetta. She badly wanted to tear the don out of the vehicle, maybe even make a quip appropriate for the occasion. But she remembered what Lieutenant Donovan had said; she had probably made herself too conspicuous already. She tossed the don a mock salute, and then the Scarlet Knight bounded away into the night.
From atop an old army-navy surplus store, Emma watched Lieutenant Donovan approach the truck. For a moment Emma wondered if Don Vendetta might try to go down in a blaze of glory or perhaps even commit suicide. She didn’t. She put up her hands as Lieutenant Donovan approached. Emma wondered what the lieutenant said, probably the kind of quip Emma had wanted to deliver.
Emma was certain Lieutenant Donovan took great pleasure to shove Don Vendetta against the hood of the vehicle and then cuff her. Years of hard work and dedication had finally paid off—the city’s most notorious criminal was in custody.
Chapter 2
Emma didn’t return to the apartment until four in the morning. Once word of the don’s capture hit the streets, numerous petty thugs decided to fill the vacuum. Emma had put down six robberies, three carjackings, and a street battle between two rival gangs. By the time she made it up the fire escape, she could do little more than take off the armor and then collapse on her bed.
The alarm went off three hours later. Emma had grown used to these late nights with little sleep, though she still didn’t like them. She rolled out of bed to get ready for work as if it were an ordinary day.
Becky sat at the kitchen counter, surrounded by boxes. Most of the kitchen appliances and utensils would go with her, except for the blender Emma used for her morning protein shake. A mug of coffee already waited for her to gulp down while she put the shake together. Becky nodded towards the television in the living room. “Your handiwork?”
On the screen, a grim-faced reporter stood in front of police headquarters. The headline at the bottom of the screen read, “Don Vendetta Arrested.” Footage showed a middle-aged blonde woman being led up the steps of the station by Lieutenant Donovan. “Not really,” Emma said. “I just kept her from escaping.”
As if on cue, the reporter said, “W
hen asked about the involvement of the Scarlet Knight in Don Vendetta’s capture, Lieutenant Charlotte Donovan said, ‘The police department does not cooperate with vigilantes.’”
“Ingrates,” Becky said. “They can’t give you a little credit?”
“It’s not important,” Emma said. “She’s behind bars—that’s what counts.”
“What happens now? You going to retire?”
“Now there will probably be a war to see who comes out on top.”
“So things are going to be even busier for you?”
“Probably.” Emma didn’t have a lot of experience with mob wars, but she assumed Don Vendetta’s empire was like any other and that with their leader gone, the lieutenants would battle each other for control. In a way it was almost better to have the don around to maintain order.
Emma made her shake and took it to the couch, which at the moment was wrapped in plastic. Most of the furniture would also go with Becky to the house she would share with Steve after their wedding. Emma had willingly given this to Becky, since she didn’t have much need for furniture or kitchen supplies. Most of her time in the apartment she spent unconscious on her bed.
The items Emma would really miss—other than Becky herself—were the picture albums and other mementoes. The photos in the albums dated back to when Emma and Becky were little girls, right up through to when they moved into their second apartment. These could not be replaced and copies were a flimsy substitute. Along with the pictures were old toys, books, and souvenirs from a trip to Florida when they were in first grade. Becky had offered to divide these, but Emma thought they would be better off in Becky’s house. In the empty apartment they would only emphasize the loneliness sure to hang over the place.
The idea of another roommate had occurred to Emma, but that would be difficult with her secret life. The fewer people who knew about the Scarlet Knight’s identity the better. It would be almost impossible to find someone Emma trusted as much as Becky to keep such a secret.
The news went to commercial and Becky cleared her throat. “I don’t suppose you’ve done any planning yet for my bachelorette party what with capturing mob bosses and all?”
“I’ve been working on it,” Emma said. In fact she had given the task to her secretary, which was a breach of museum rules, but Emma simply didn’t have the time for such things with her new duties as assistant director and as the Scarlet Knight.
“I hope it’s not anything too wild.” The sarcasm was evident in Becky’s voice. Emma had given her secretary the vague instruction to book something tasteful, not one of the many strip clubs, most of which were fronts for Don Vendetta and other, smaller operators.
“Maybe one of your sisters—”
“Come on, kid, I’m teasing. You know I’m not into that stuff.”
“Right.”
“Don’t worry about it. Steve’s not even having a bachelor party.”
“So he says,” Emma said.
“You’re spending too much time with that ghost. He’s a bad influence on you.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You’d better hurry up. Don’t want to be late on your first day, Madame Assistant Director.”
Emma gave her friend a quick hug. “I’ll see you later. I hope.”
“Take good care of him for me.”
“I will.”
“Don’t bust his chops too much. Or whatever you nerdy scientists do for hazing.” With a wink, Becky was out the door and Emma was alone. That was something she would have to get used to.
***
One benefit to her new position was a parking space on the ground floor of the garage. Emma left her motorcycle in this spot and then started towards the entrance to the building. Some of her coworkers found it odd she rode a motorcycle; she claimed she wanted to conserve gas usage. Before she reached the front door she took off the helmet and then shook out her hair. She usually stopped in the bathroom on her way in to pull her hair back to project something like a professional appearance.
Today she didn’t get far before she saw Steve Scherr on a bench with a briefcase on his lap. People who met Emma and Steve often confused them for twins since they had the same red hair and blue eyes and looked younger than their age. Apparently they shared the same sense of punctuality as well.
“You’re early,” Emma said. “Did you have any trouble finding a parking space?”
“No, there was plenty of room.”
“As long as you’re early. By eight it starts to get crowded.”
“I’ll try to be early then.” Steve rose from his chair to shake Emma’s hand as if they hadn’t met before. Emma supposed this was to appear as if he didn’t get his job through cronyism. “Do you want me to wait here or—”
“No, I can show you up to where you’ll be working.” Emma motioned for him to follow her past the ticket counter, into the main gallery. The signature piece of this gallery was Alex the mastodon. The elephant-like creature’s skeleton had glared down at generations of visitors to the Plaine Museum.
They passed Alex to the elevator. Once inside, Emma pushed the button for the third floor. “The second floor is devoted to our static exhibits, though we do change them from time to time. The third floor is where you’ll be spending most of your time. That’s for the research departments. You’ll be working in the botany department with Dr. Bancroft. He’s a nice man, lots of field experience.”
“You work on the fourth floor now?”
“That’s right. In the administrative offices. Of course if you ever need anything, you can pick up the phone and call.”
“Thanks.” Steve cleared his throat. “Did you see Becky this morning?”
“Yes, before I left.”
“Does she seem all right to you?”
“Fine. Why? Has she said something?”
“No. It’s that she seems a little nervous. I’m starting to wonder if she might be getting cold feet.”
“Oh, I doubt that. Becky loves you.”
“I know. It’s just that getting married is a big step. Maybe too big of one for her.”
“I’m sure Becky will go through with it.” The elevator doors opened onto the third floor. “I can talk with her if you’d like.”
“That would be great.” Emma led Steve along the hallway to the botany department. This path took her past the geology department, which she had managed for nearly five years. The frosted glass on the door prevented anyone from seeing her as she passed by. A part of her yearned to remain there, where she could continue her research on meteor fragments and the search for life from other planets. The assistant director was far removed from hands-on work, the kind of work she enjoyed.
Emma opened the door to the botany department. Dr. Bancroft was already there, a large, jovial man who played Santa Claus at a homeless shelter during the holidays. He crushed Steve’s hand hard enough to make the younger man wince. “You’re our new man. Good to meet you.” Bancroft turned to Emma then. “And you’ve met our illustrious new assistant director. I hope she didn’t give you too hard of a time.”
“No, sir,” Steve said.
“There’s still plenty of time for that. Before long she’ll be raining down memos about conserving paper clips and rubber bands.” From someone else this might have seemed mean-spirited, but the twinkle in Bancroft’s eye clearly indicated this was a joke.
“I’ll leave you two to get acquainted,” Emma said. She beat a hasty retreat before Bancroft tried to shake her hand, which could make even the Scarlet Knight wince. She took a last look back at Steve, who nodded slightly to indicate everything was fine—at least for now.
***
Her new office on the fourth floor was twice the size of her old one and had a better view of the city. She could see Executive Plaza and Robinson Tower, two of the city’s world famous landmarks along with Robinson Park. From her slightly higher vantage the people below looked smaller, which reminded her of a maze she had once built for mice to run through. How many of the
se mice were really rats that gnawed away at the city? That was something she often contemplated when she scrambled along the rooftops as the Scarlet Knight.
A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. Emma’s secretary stuck her head through the doorway. “Dr. Earl, the director would like to see you.”
“Oh, yes, thank you, Leslie.” Despite nearly five years as an administrator, Emma had never really gotten used to having a secretary. The thought of someone at her beck and call made her cringe. “I’ll be right there.”
Leslie nodded. She slipped into the office then and closed the door. “On that other matter, I’ve made the preliminary arrangements. I think you’ll find them acceptable.”
“I’m sure I will,” Emma said. Leslie’s work was nothing if not exceptional. This stemmed from her long history as a secretary at the Plaine Museum and the Louvre before that. Emma considered herself fortunate to have someone so capable in her employ. “I hope you don’t mind. I’d never do something like that usually—”
“I understand. I’m happy to do my part.”
“Thank you.” Emma took a folder of papers from Leslie, inside which were reservations at a trendy restaurant, the kind of place an assistant director could afford. There was also a menu for the tearoom at the Rampart Arms Hotel, one of the oldest in the city. “That should be great.” Emma put the folder on her desk and then felt her cheeks turn red as she asked, “Did you get your invitation to the wedding yet?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Good. If you’d like to come to the bachelorette party—”
“That won’t be necessary.” The secretary smiled. “I’m a little old for such things.”
“Consider it an open invitation.”
“I will.” Leslie cleared her throat. “Begging my pardon, Doctor, but the director is waiting for you.”
“Yes, of course. Thank you.” Emma grabbed her briefcase and then hurried next door to meet her new supervisor.
The director had an even larger window with a better view that included the harbor. The sight of the water reminded her of the excitement last night when she had captured Don Vendetta. She wondered how bad things would get tonight. So wrapped up in this thought, she didn’t realize the director had said something until she said, “Have a seat, Doctor.”
Tales of the Scarlet Knight Collection: The Call Page 56