by Matt Abraham
Blondie queer eyed me. “Yeah.”
He didn’t know. “Ok then.” I turned and took two steps towards the cuffs. Then two more past them. And jumped off the roof. I fell through the air towards the blacktop, plunging five stories in seconds. Hitting the concrete hard I rolled forwards, and came up on my feet, already jogging away. As I went I looked over my shoulder and waved to the cop.
Who was running for the stairs.
What the… Was he in pursuit?
I picked up my pace and bolted across the parking lot.
Behind me Waters said, “Stand down detective, that black cape’s invulnerable.”
I reached the road and looked back. Four of the storm troopers, dripping in green grunge, were outside.
And the cop charged right past them.
He was. He was giving chase.
I turned and darted across the road. Right into the path of a large, red truck. It mashed on its brakes and hit the horn. I jumped left. And just missed it. But now I was staring at an oncoming blue compact. I rolled into the next lane as it sped past.
Just three more lanes to go.
I ran across the first two. But in the third a bus was coming fast. I dove towards the sidewalk. And the people mover plowed into my shins. I spun through the air, and slammed into a brick wall, then flopped to the ground.
A woman in blue looked down at me. “Oh my God, we got to get you to a hospital. I’m calling an ambulance.”
Hopping to my feet I said, “No thanks. I’ll jog there.” Running past her I ducked down the next alley. I sprinted the whole way, and reached the far end in seconds. It emptied into a sidewalk filled with pedestrians.
Which way was my car, left or right? Right, definitely to the-
“Stop, police!”
I turned around.
The Viking was at the other side of the alley. With his gun drawn. But with so many civilians around me he’d never shoot.
So I pulled Rico.
His eyes got big. “Drop your weapon.”
Lining him up real nice I said, “No,” and pulled the trigger. Rico blasted loud. And his slug hit true. The cop spun around, and smacked the concrete.
Around me the citizens screamed and scattered.
“He’s got a pistol.”
“Run.”
I holstered my rod amid the mayhem. “It’s only a stunner. He’ll be fine.”
Sooner than I thought, because right then the cop rose up slow. He turned to me with the gun still in hand, and a hard expression on his face. “Stop. Right. There.”
Unbelievable. That electro-charge should’ve knocked him out cold.
I bolted right, running as fast as I could. My car was two blocks down, and I reached it quick, jumped in, and laid the gas flat with both feet. One block rolled past. Then two. I turned right, then left, and then right again before traffic got thick and I had to stop.
I checked my rearview. No sirens. No crazy cop. Finally, I was safe. Stuck in traffic, but safe.
I wiped the sweat from my face, then removed my mask and laughed. I’d never met a cop like him. What breed of bull charges down a powered perp on foot after he catches a stunner an inch from his heart? Not one that wants to spend their pension. He must’ve-
Something rapped my window.
I looked over. And into a determined pair of Swedish blue eyes hovering above a gun. The cop said, “Open… Your door.”
Unbelievable. I put it in park and got out. “How’d you find me?”
“Shut…” He gulped some air. “Up. You’re under arrest.”
The light ahead turned green. And traffic started to flow around us. Behind me a car laid on its horn. The driver leaned out and yelled, “Come on already.”
The cop shouted, “Stand down, I’m-”
Moving swift I swatted his gun. It fell to the ground, but the cop didn’t shrink. Instead he threw a fist into my jaw. I rolled with his punch, but he still screamed and cradled his hand. “You bastard.”
“So,” I said, “you are human.” Grabbing his lapels I lifted him up, and threw him over a parked car.
He landed flat on the sidewalk, but got to his knees. “Police,” he said. “Do not move.”
I said, “I’m sorry as hell about that hand, please know I got nothing but respect for you.” Then I got back into my car, and peeled out.
#
After about ten minutes of uninterrupted cruising I’d put a few dozen miles of cool night air between me and that cop, and I started to feel pretty good. Granted, I’d made a bigger mess in the museum than I expected, but I came out of it with some interesting information regarding my case. And I got to manhandle some heavy-handed lawmen. Overall it was a good start to the evening.
Now if I could only be as successful at the morgue...
I aimed my sled towards the hospital and about a half an hour later I was on the road that led to its parking lot. My clock said it was almost ten, which meant I had a touch over two hours of waiting before Lockter left. The smart play was to pull in, and wait until she went home, then slip past security for maximum time with the corpses.
But instead of the smart play I kept on driving.
Chapter 11
Doodle’s attitude earlier was one of pure teen angst. That didn’t bother me. What did was the mention of a solo meet that had her nervous. She sounded like she needed backup. And I wasn’t going to let her go without it. So I stopped three blocks away from Wetlands and waited for her to pop out. I’d stay planted for as long as I could, and while my heels cooled I’d dice up the case.
The official story was that Thermite and Firewall climbed up to the roof, and shimmied through the vents before hacking the door and cutting off the alarms with a filament they shot through the gaps in the lasers. Then, once inside, they turned on each other before getting the diamond: Thermite burning Firewall with his power, and Firewall using the accelerant they brought for the Kessel Glass on his friend.
And I had to admit, it wrapped up pretty as a present.
But the outside wall and the inside vent told a different story. Could the boys have climbed up and down them without leaving a scratch? Doubtful. Plus, where’d they acquire the plans for Wentorf Hall’s security system? Both those issues raised doubts.
And then there was the money.
Swamp’s hardware cost a bundle. He admitted as much. So where did two boys, fresh from the slammer, get that kind of butter? It had occurred to me earlier that Swamp may not have been entirely honest regarding the depth of his role in all of this, but even so, masterminding a break in, especially one like this, was way outside of his skill set. Which meant that a powerful moneyman, with museum knowledge and access to chemicals, was behind it all. Someone who could plan, organize, and fund the whole job.
Swamp couldn’t tell me who that was, or if they harbored ill will towards the boys, but the evidence on Thermite’s body could, so long as I-
A slamming door roused me from my thoughts.
I peered out the window. Doodle was standing on the curb in front of Wetlands. She looked almost like a normal teen in jeans, a red sweater, and a big, black purse over her shoulder. She glanced right. Then left. Then straight at my Jalopy.
I slid down until I was just peeking over the dashboard. But it was too late. I watched her confusion turn into recognition.
She jogged towards me, muttering something and pointing sideways.
I leaned out my window. “What?”
“Pull around the corner. Hurry.”
I turned down the nearest side street, parked, and got out.
Seconds later Doodle appeared. “What’re you doing here?”
“I was in the neighborhood.”
“Bull, your office is on the other side of town.”
“How do you know?”
“The address is on your card. It’s in Falling Rock, the Tanziger building, fourth floor. I even remember the phone number.”
My chest puffed up. “Keen environmental awareness. Goo
d memorization. You could be a detective.”
Doodle opened her mouth, but didn’t say anything. Instead her features softened. “So you’re here to keep an eye on me?”
“Both eyes, actually. What you said earlier, it sounded like you could use some backup.” I tussled her thick, black hair.
“Don’t.” She shoved my hand away. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Act like my dad.”
“I am your dad, Doodle.”
“Dad’s are around more than once a decade.”
“Hey, you don’t think I wanted to be? Your mom took you out of town without so much as a goodbye or an address. I’ve had no idea where you’ve been.”
“Whatever.” Doodle looked at her watch.
“Hey, maybe we could talk about it in the car? You always loved to drive.”
“I can’t now. I have a thing.”
I reached for her shoulder.
And she stepped back.
So with as much sincerity as possible I said, “What’re you up to, Doodle? Why’re you and Tera really back in town? Why’s no one out here with you?”
She sighed. “If it’ll get you off my back, we’re pulling a job. Tomorrow night.”
“For who? Swamp?”
“Yeah.” Her eyes weren’t scared, but they sure were nervous. “Now will you please go? I was just being silly before. I can handle myself.”
“I know you can. But it’s not silly being cautious. It’s smart. You were always whip smart. And I was just concerned. Sorry,” I said, “Sketch.”
“Concerned is fine, I guess. And you can call me Doodle. Oh, I have something for you.”
“For me?”
“Yeah, here.” She rolled her shirt up. Underneath, on her stomach, were a ton of tattoos. There was a stick of dynamite and a pair of pistols, but right above her navel were twin roses. Doodle closed her eyes tight. And one of the green stems pushed out against her flesh. She pinched it. And peeled it away. All that remained was a blank outline of the bloom, but in her hand was a real live bright red fresh cut rose. “These are still your favorite, right?”
I took the flower and gave it a whiff. “Yeah. You’ve gotten really good.”
“This is nothing. Now get out of here. I got a thing.” She walked back towards Wetlands.
“Hey.”
My daughter stopped and turned to me.
I said, “I missed you.”
Doodle’s smile hadn’t changed a bit since she was a kid. “I… I’ll call you tomorrow. I promise,” she said, and disappeared around the corner.
I stared at her rose. My daughter, the matter manifester. Able to create physical objects directly from her body.
I placed her flower on the passenger’s seat. It didn’t look anything like the ones she made as a kid. Those were all thick and chunky, the bulbs too big for their stems to hold up. Though I liked them just the same.
This was no time for reminiscing though. I had to get to the morgue. So I started up my car. But left it in park. Because there was something in Doodle’s voice I couldn’t shake. I looked at the clock.
It wasn’t even eleven. Plenty of time still.
I took a right, drove three blocks, and parked again. Then I slipped out of my ride and padded back to Wetlands on feet so smooth a wolf couldn’t hear me coming. Peering around the corner I saw Doodle at the club’s entrance. She looked at her watch as a car rolled up.
It was a late model black sedan almost the size of a truck with headlights burning like a sailor’s loins ten days after shore leave. But through the twin beams I could see the outlines of three people inside. The driver lowered his window. Doodle bent down. They exchanged muffled words.
And my kid pounded the roof of the car. Both her hands started swinging about. It was like watching her mom get hot. But then the back door opened. And Doodle froze.
I reached into my jacket and grabbed Lois. She doubled in size, but her green glow was contained inside my coat.
Doodle took a big step back. She unslung her purse and held it out. The driver reached through his window and snatched it.
The back door closed. And the car pulled away.
Doodle then slipped back into the club, safe and whole. So I relaxed, and unhanded Lois. With my fatherly duties done it was time for me to rabbit.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
I spun around.
Swamp, still wearing the red leathers from earlier, was standing there with his pale boy Vec.
“Through you both,” I said, and hurled a fist at Swamp’s face.
He transformed into green liquid and my punch passed through him.
I pulled my damp hand back, ready to toss another.
But then Swamp threw a punch of his own. It hit like a fire hose, blasting needle-like liquid between my eyelids and coarse, bitter bubbles down my throat.
I stumbled back, hacking. And wiped the water away. When I looked up Swamp had vanished. But Vec was still in front of me. I reached for his throat. But he grabbed my wrist, and shoved it to the ground. I flopped to my knees with it, and strained myself trying to get free.
“Having problems?” Vec said.
Fighting his grip I said, “What’s your power set, super strength?”
“Me? I’m attractive.”
“Not for long.” I grabbed at his neck again with my free hand.
But he snatched that one, and pinned it too. Now both my paws were stuck on the cement.
“You sure?” Vec said.
“Let me up and I’ll show you.”
“Ok.” Vec released me and stepped back.
I got up and lunged towards him. But a green wave rose up between us. “Son of a-” was all I got out before Swamp, in his purely liquid form, crashed down and swallowed me whole.
I thrashed as best I could. But I was trapped like a bug in a drop of dew. I couldn’t see, couldn’t breathe. My head burned and tingled. Blackness started to creep in. And from a distance I heard Swamp say, “Damn man, you go down faster than your daughter.”
Then everything went black.
Chapter 12
I opened my eyes to a beautiful sunny day. Day. I shot up and looked at my watch. Six thirty AM. I punched the pavement, cracking the cement. God damn you, Swamp. My window at the morgue was closed. Now what would I do?
What else?
Wait until nine and sneak in, hopefully avoiding Doctor Lockter and a long prison sentence.
I stood up and did the self pat down. My keys, wallet, and hardware were all still in place, so I turned towards my ride. Dozens of pedestrians were on the sidewalk, making their way to work. I plowed through them on the way to my car. But when I got there all I found was ocean air, and a sign that said tow away zone.
God damn it. Again.
I took down the address of the impound lot, then flagged a cab and headed over. The lady behind the caged counter looked like an angry Russian nesting doll, but for a few hundreds she was kind enough to escort me to my sled. I slid in and returned to the office, arriving too early for Mrs. West and whatever barb she had on her cute quip of the day calendar. I ran past her desk, going for a fresh suit, but stopped dead. On my computer screen was Sandtrout’s icon.
And it was blinking.
I hit print and out came my report. It filled the whole page, each line representing some way Thermite and Firewall’s lives intersected. There were schools both attended and flights they took together. There were a lot of old hotel charges, and a restaurant they worked at. But no current jobs. And no current address. There was, however, something worth knowing at the bottom of the page.
The name Bundy Strong.
He was a fence mostly, buying goods that thieves stole, but sometimes, for a fee, he’d also facilitate the jobs themselves by introducing people who wanted to hire powered thieves with those black capes who possess the necessary might. When I was with Dread Division we never used him. Too small time. But maybe he’d gotten bigger since then
. I’d find out, right after I questioned him about how he knew the boys.
#
Bittenbach Bay resides between two peninsulas that jut out of the north and south ends of town like a crab claw. The upper one is called Highside, home of the fourth busiest port in the world, and North Point, Bundy Strong’s shipping dock. It was a squat, ugly building right on the water, and it looked and smelled like a deep forest mushroom.
I walked inside, past the three wide aisles full of heavy boxes, and up the stairs to Bundy’s office. He was at his desk, looking like a toad in a red flannel shirt and brown coveralls, lost in deep thought as he stared at a helium tank against the wall.
“Hey Bundy,” I said.
He snapped to and grabbed his chest. “Good lord, pal, what’re… Oh, it’s you. What do you want, turn cape?”
I walked over, snatched his collar, and hoisted him up to my level. “More respect. I don’t take guff from regs.”
“I’m not a regular person.” He pulled back hard, but went nowhere.
“Lifting five hundred pounds don’t make you a cape. Not in this burg.” I tossed him back into the chair.
Bundy straightened his shirt. “Whatever. Why’re you here?”
“Thermite and Firewall. Did you set them up with the Wentorf job, or were you just going to serve as their fence?”
“What, the Coconut guys? I never met them.”
“You want to try the truth this time?”
“That is the truth.”
“Bundy, a carrot stick’ll pass your lips before an honest breath, so I’ll give you one more chance to tell me what I want to know before I start snapping things off you.”
He leaned forward. And thought about what I could do to him. His imagination must’ve been vivid because he said, “Ok. There’s one thing I got. Here.” Bundy reached under his desk.
And he dropped out of sight.
“What the hell?” I circled around the worktable. There was an open hatch right below where he was just sitting. Through it I saw Bundy running across the floor of the warehouse. Then it slammed shut.
I charged out of the office and took the stairs down two at a time. “Stop. You’re only making this harder on yourself.”
Bundy was already halfway down the center aisle, fleeing towards the ocean. “Yeah, right.” He reached the end of the row and turned the corner fast and blind.