by Matt Abraham
No answer.
“That’s what I thought,” I said, “I got to beat feet.”
“Hey, you owe me.”
I was midstride, but that stopped me dead. “Do I? Do I owe you? The ‘fi’ in ‘sci-fi’ may stand for fiction, but I live in a world of fact, fair maiden, and nothing you said is going to help me in my quest, so no, I don’t owe you. Not one gold dragon, not one thin doubloon.”
I turned to resume my exit, but Fangirl rounded the counter, and jumped in my path. “Tell you what, no payment is necessary.”
“Thanks.” I threw my coat on. “You spoil me.”
“Unless that nugget pans out.”
I wanted to give her arm such a pinch. “If this, what I graciously call ‘a tip’, pans out then maybe. Maybe I’ll talk about Top Tower.”
“If it pans out then you find our man. If you find our man then you solve your case. That means the shine on that nugget is twenty-four carat. If all that happens then I get my answers.”
“We’ll see.”
“Hey, maybe someday you need me again, and maybe on that day I won’t be in the answering mood.”
I grabbed her by both arms and hoisted her to my level. “You got a point,” I said, “it’s a dull one, but it’s a point, so I’ll tell you what Rumpelstiltskin, if you just spun straw into gold, and I run into a fictional girl who’s impossible to find on what little you’ve given me, I swear that I’ll talk.”
She cut a smile from one ear to the other. “Is it possible you’ll make payment this week?”
I dropped her. “Sure. Why not?” By then the city will probably be burnt to the ground anyway.
Chapter 7
Morning was in full swing when I pulled into traffic, and I got to my office a little after nine. It’s located on the fourth floor of a fairly busy building, but the door to my suite is nearly impossible to find because just above it, hidden in a smoke alarm, is a holographic projector. Thanks to that beautiful piece of technology when you take a good long look down my hall all you’ll see is a dead end. But it’s only effective in the long range. If you come within five feet it’ll stop working on you, and as if by magic a door will appear that reads: Dane Curse – Detective Agency.
I walked through it to find my four-armed secretary, Widow, at her desk typing away with both pairs of hands. She had on a sharp blue suit, black-rimmed glasses, and a tight bun that contained more dusky-hued hair than you would believe. Like me she once wore the black cape. Back then she ran with the Spinnerettes, and went by The Widow, and while I personally think it shows a lack of creativity when a cape of either shade puts ‘The’ in front of their name I don’t hold it against her. She was a sharp operator, and could’ve been a player for a long time, but then her brother died on the job. She came to me for answers, and I untwisted the whole sorry tale for her. Shortly after she joined the business. “You look like hell. New case, or did you lose a fight?”
“A little bit of both.” I hung my overcoat on the rack. “And how come it’s never a ‘good morning boss’ with you, huh? There are lots of gals out there who’d love your job.”
“Find just one and you’re a better sleuth than I thought.”
“Let’s hope that’s the case.”
Widow leaned her head into one hand as the other three kept typing. “Oh, so it’s a job. Anything I should know about?”
“All you need to know is that if I can pull this off we’ll be in the soy sauce for a long, long time.”
“We’re not that deep in ketchup now.” She had on her big sister smile. “But la dee da, doesn’t it sound exciting?”
“Maybe a little,” I said. “Hold my calls.”
“What calls?” she asked. “Who calls you?”
I opened the door that led from the waiting room into my office, and was halfway through it when Widow called out. “Hey Dane, hold up.”
I turned around, and poked my head out. “Yeah?”
“Good morning, boss.”
#
I closed the door, took a seat behind my desk, and reflected on Fangirl’s news. If Pinnacle had a girlfriend how did that fit into the puzzle? Was she missing him, or did she lure him to his fate? Was she a cape, or some reg? There are over twenty million people in this city, and more than half of them are dames, so if Ms. Ida No really existed she wouldn’t be easy to find. I needed something else to go on, but so far in every other area from weapons to suspects I had come up empty, which meant after five hours on the case I was no closer to where I needed to be.
I was too tired to improve my situation though. I needed some Z’s. So I grabbed a glass, along with a bottle of whiskey from the desk, and medicated myself. Then I laid down on the couch, tipped my hat over my eyes, and slipped into a nice, deep slumber.
Until…
“Hey Dane, you’re sleeping.”
“Thank you Widow. Did you think I was unaware?” I said through my hat.
“Just wanted to tell you I’m going to lunch now, I’ll be back in thirty.”
“Hmmm? Yeah, ok. If anything else that important comes up be sure to let me know.”
“Ha ha, you want something to eat?”
“Nah, I’m ok.”
Widow lifted the hat off my face. “Let me rephrase that: You want something to eat?”
Looking up at her brown beauties I knew the right answer. “Yeah, whatever you’re getting sounds good.”
She replaced the hat. “Sure thing hon. Hey, Pinnacle come home yet?”
Ugh. I sat up. There was no getting back to sleep now. “Why do you ask?”
“No reason. It’s been what, three days now.”
“Four.”
“Right, four. Always seems kind of strange not having him around.”
“I know what you mean,” I said. “Hey, can you grab me a paper while you’re out? The Chronicle.”
“Can do. I’ll tell you, four days… I wish I had a job like that,” Widow said, and closed the door behind her.
I don’t know why I asked for the paper. I didn’t put much faith in the Chronicle, but I liked the funny pages and who knows, maybe there would be something interesting to…
Wait.
I jumped to my feet and bolted from the office at full speed, catching the elevator before it closed. “What did you mean by that?”
“Mean by what?” Widow said.
“What you said before, how you wished you had a job like that?”
“Well, most bosses don’t like it when you disappear for four straight shifts, so I’m thinking I wish I could do that too, you know, just take off without a word and not get fired. Actually, come to think of it, I kind of do have a job like that.”
“Don’t even joke, kid. You’d come back to disaster or nothing at all. Remember the paper.” I let the door close and ran back to my office. I hadn’t thought of it, I bet nobody did, but Widow was right; somewhere in town there was probably a pissed-off boss wondering where the hell his employee was. Assuming Pinnacle had a job, which I think he did.
See, there were a lot of white capes who couldn’t, or wouldn’t work a day-to-day gig. Team Supreme was full of them. Heroes like Glory Anna, Boy Mercury, and Doctor Velocity could hide their identities, but they wouldn’t bother. Their class of cape punched villains, not clocks. Working a day job would be beneath them. But Pinnacle, he was just the type to do something so human. I could see him working with people, helping in some other way than swinging his fists. You don’t act like him unless you were raised right, and that means work, and work means schedules, shifts, and attendance sheets.
I got to my computer and ran Sandworm, a brilliant piece of software that could access all sorts of protected information over the net. It had its limitations of course, but I wasn’t looking for Pentagon secrets, just some HR files from businesses all over the city, which was a piece of pie for Sandworm. My search would focus on men who shared Pinnacle’s height, weight, eye and hair color, and who’d been AWOL from work for the past four days.
<
br /> I typed it all in and pressed enter, then sat back down on the couch with another tumbler of whiskey. It would take at least an hour for Sandworm to come back with anything, if there actually was anything to come back with.
Chapter 8
I was still waiting when the outer door to my office opened, and someone walked in. It wasn’t Widow. The dark outline on the opaque glass that separated the rooms was too big, too much a man’s. I put my drink down, pulled Rico, and clicked the safety off. Then I crept to the door.
Whoever it was stopped at Widow’s desk, and bent over it. Then the silent alarm on my wall, the one that reads ‘SPEC’, lit up bright red.
I relaxed, holstered my piece, and opened the door. “TGIM.”
“That’s what they say.” Laars Monday stood over six feet tall. He had eyes like sea ice a Viking ship might crash though, curly blond hair, and a smile that all the girls loved. As a SPEC Agent his standard getup was bright silver battle armor, but today he sported a dark suit and tie.
“So Detective Monday,” I said, and motioned him into my office, “you got a warrant?”
“Those rules don’t apply to the Special Powers Extraction Commission. And it’s Agent Monday.”
I finished my drink in one gulp. “I know. I preferred you back when it was detective.”
“Yeah, simpler times.” Monday took a seat in the chair while I resumed my spot on the couch.
“So, what’s this about copper? I’m not used to getting rousted by the bulls in my own office.”
“A man can’t drop by to say hi to an old pal?”
“A man, sure. But a SPEC? That would be a first.”
Monday was fidgeting some, which was way more than usual. “I just wanted to drop you a warning. Seems your name’s come across as someone of interest. There’s a BOLO on you.”
“What?”
“That’s right chief. All SPEC Agents will be on the lookout for a black cape by the name of Dane Curse. Height unknown, hair color unknown, yadda yadda.”
I poured myself another and downed it. “Why now? Who put a finger on me?”
“Don’t know the answer to either of those questions. There wasn’t even a misdemeanor attached.”
“Still, should I be worried?”
“Not worried. Careful. We get black cape BOLO’s all the time from local law enforcement or concerned citizens, and they usually don’t mean anything. So long as we don’t pick you up on something else you’ll be fine, but if we do it’s straight into indefinite holding so my advice is hug the grass for the next week or so.”
“You’re not the boss of me.”
“Well then keep in touch at least. I’d hate to lose the only pair of ears I got on the wrong side of the law,” Monday said.
I smiled. “I will. For the exact same reason.”
He laughed. “Cute.”
“It’s the dimples.” I leaned back into the couch as casually as I could, and said, “Hey Monday, before you go let me ask, how come Humphries doesn’t know where Pinnacle is?”
“The director? Who says he doesn’t?”
I poked a thumb into my chest. “Me. I says that.”
“Assuming you’re correct, I’d tell you that white capes and SPECs aren’t the same thing. Pinnacle doesn’t work for us so he doesn’t need to check in.”
“Yeah,” I said, “but you fight the same fight. Don’t you guys partner?”
“Sometimes, but not always.”
“Really? I’ve always figured what’s good for one is good for the other.”
“Well, it’s not a flag the Commission likes to fly, but the capes… they’re friendly competition. After all, we do the same job.”
“Only they do it for free.”
“And we do it better,” Monday said. “Why are you asking?”
“Something I heard about Pinnacle. Black capes have been trying to ice him for years, figure maybe something finally happened and the SPECs and Team Supreme are keeping it quiet. He’s been gone for four days and didn’t even say goodbye.”
Monday shooed my words away like they were gnats. “No, he’s fine. That guy’s impervious to everything.”
“Not everything,” I said, “no one’s ever tried one of your collars.”
He stared straight at me. “Are you working a case?”
“Nope, there’s nothing cooking at the moment. I’m just musing.”
“I hope so, otherwise I’d say you’re losing your touch. There’s no way a black cape could lay their hands on a collar. The technology is too sensitive. Heck, I can’t even requisition one without executive permission, and a whole lot of paperwork.”
“Maybe the technology could be duplicated.”
“Not with the safeguards we have in place. But don’t take my word for it, go ask Director Humphries.”
“Yeah.” I looked at the back of my computer. “I’ll be sure to do that.”
Monday got up, and opened the door. “Any other dumb questions before I go?”
“That’s all of them. And thanks for the heads up on my BOLO. I owe you.”
We shook, and he left. I liked seeing Monday, and I respected the hell out of him, but white capes and SPECs are more alike than he thinks, neither one ever delivers good news.
Chapter 9
Widow arrived a few minutes later with some corned beef. I let her know Monday stopped by, but kept the BOLO to myself. It would only worry her. We sat on my couch, and ate the sandwiches. When we were almost done Sandworm let out an audible ping.
“Excellent.” I walked to my computer, and printed the report
“What’s that?” Widow asked.
I shoved the paper in my pocket, and turned off the computer. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Unwilling to wait for the elevator I opted instead to take the stairs down two at a time. I jumped into Jane, threw my keys into the ignition, then paused. Maybe my optimism was premature. There was no guarantee that Pinnacle was on my list.
I pulled out the paper and studied the possibles:
1. Gomez, Martin-Accountant for Elwrathe and Sons
2. Norman, George-Actuary with Martin & Bowell
3. Melehkov, Mel-High School Teacher at The Einstein Institute
4. Reynolds, Hank-Investment Banker at Global Domain
5. Waller, Benjamin-Fireman for the City of Gold Coast
The fourth name on the list was my last thing-to-do, and I had doubts about the first two as well. Could an investment banker, actuary, or an accountant escape for extended periods of time when a sudden disaster called for fast-acting hero work? Maybe, but Sandworm said their offices were on middle floors, which wouldn’t make it any easier, and besides, the jobs seemed ill suited for a man like Pinnacle.
That left Benjamin Waller and Mel Melehkov. The first was a fireman, which was a great job for a white cape. Odd hours, wide-open office, and when you’re at work you’re actually saving lives. But teacher showed just as much promise. Let’s say a bridge collapses, you just give the kids a pop quiz, grab a cup of coffee in the lounge, and out the window you go. Teachers also get summers, nights, and weekends off which would free him up for even more public service. They were both good leads, but Melehkov was closer, so I’d start there.
#
Getting inside his apartment building was easy enough. I just slipped the doorman a fifty and walked into the lobby. It looked plain. If this really was Pinnacle’s home then I was bound to run into some fancy defenses and surveillance, but I didn’t spot a thing.
I took the elevator to the top floor, stepped out, and scanned the hallway. It was clear too. When I got to the right apartment I rang the buzzer. The door opened, and standing in front of me was an elderly woman about the size of a paperweight wearing a blue apron with white country fringe.
“Good morning,” I said, “is Mr. Melehkov in?”
She had a Russian accent that came out of her thick, like smoke from a chimney. “My son can’t see anyone.”
“So he’s home.”
“He is, but he’s sick.”
“I’m sorry to hear that ma’am, but I need to see him.” I gave her my big West Coast smile, the one that just shines with trustworthiness.
“Insist all you want, you can’t come in. He needs rest.” She began to close the door.
I grabbed it, and pushed it open. “This won’t take a moment.”
Pulling a wooden spoon from her apron she walloped the back of my hand. “Let go of this door immediately.” Then she added a second shot for good measure. “Leave or I’ll call the cops.”
I leaned over her. “Ma’am, the last lady to scare me with empty threats peppered with wood to my paw was Sister Mary Catherine, and I’ve grown since. Now I don’t want to cause any trouble, and I mean no disrespect, but like I said, I have to peep Mel with my own two eyes, it’s-” The door swung open the rest of the way revealing a thirty-year-old birdlike man with a slightly receding hairline and a bright red nose. He was swaddled in blankets.
“I’m Mel Melehkov, what’s this about?” His pipes sounded like they were stuffed with wet sandpaper.
“You’re Mel Melehkov?” Thinking quick, I pulled out the sheet of paper with his name on it and held it up. “I’m a process server here for a Mel Melehkov, but I don’t think you’re my man. The guy I’m looking for is from Louisiana. You from Louisiana?”
“Nope.” He shook his head, and blew his nose “I was born and raised in Gold Coast.”
“Well that settles that, sorry for the bother. I hope you understand I had to be sure you weren’t him.” I paused for a moment. “If you don’t mind me asking what’re you down with?”
“Flu.”
“That’s the flu?” I asked. “Bird or swine?”
His laugh knocked loose some phlegm. “I’m a teacher, and kids carry serious bugs.”
“Well, I hope you feel better.” I turned and walked away.
He leaned out the door. “And I hope you find your man.”
Thanks Mel, me too.
I swung by Ben Waller’s place next, and got to his floor even easier than Mel’s. I knocked on his door, then rang the bell and waited. No answer. I gave the hall one final look, then pulled out my lock pick and jimmied the knob. The door swung open, and what I found inside was nothing short of amazing...