The Coconut Swindle (Black Cape Case Files Book 2)

by Matt Abraham

  The cop kept rambling. All I caught was, “-move.”

  Then I noticed a dozen more lawmen. I couldn’t tell where they were coming from, but it looked like someone had tapped a well full of them.

  “I said don’t move,” the first cop yelled. “Fire.”

  Gunshots popped all around as twelve projectiles struck my chest. And the world went gooey. I slumped backwards, into the wall. Leaning against it I looked down. My shirt and tie were burnt away. The skin beneath was ashy and black. And sticking out of the seared flesh like a feather duster were a dozen Trumite tranquilizer darts.

  I swatted them off, and went to take a step, but stumbled and fell. Two canisters landed next to me. The label on their sides read: Viper Vapor. They belched out blue smoke that stunk like brimstone. It spread thick around my hands and feet. And my head got heavy as I wretched.

  The cops started chattering. “Suspect has been neutralized.”

  “Wait until he passes out, then slap on the cuffs.”

  “Tell the backup he can stand down.”

  The smoke was all around me, and rising higher. Despite my tolerance for knockout sedatives I knew that a few more mouthfuls of this haze and I’d be too numb to fight my way free. But still, I pinched my nose, and closed both eyes tight. Then I flattened out, plunging myself completely into the noxious cloud.

  “Where’d he go?”

  “I can’t see him.”

  “Wait until he comes out, then blast him again.”

  I gave it a couple more seconds. Then I sprang from the mist, and launched into the wall behind me, blasting through it head first. Bricks and plaster skittered across the cement as I spilled onto the floor of Blackstone’s Hubcaps. It was dark inside. And the hard ground was cold. The only light was from the hole I just made.

  Back on the street the cops were yelling.

  I got to my feet. And pulled out Rico. Aiming high up, I fired off a few explosive tips at the part of the wall that was still standing. Some of the building gave way and crumbled, putting a pile of rubble between me and my attackers. I turned from it, and sprinted across the warehouse floor.

  My head was still soggy, but with each step my vision got a little sharper. My thoughts, a touch crisper. And I was almost one hundred percent when I reached the far wall. I tossed my shoulder into it and crashed through to the other side, as easy as long division.

  Now I was on the street again. And there was no one around. I charged back towards my car, taking a wide arc over a few extra blocks to avoid any cops. It worked. I made it without seeing a soul.

  There were a total of three bridges linking Limestone Rock to the city, and I was driving fast for the nearest one. But with only one block behind me I ran into a problem. Around fifty feet beyond my bumper a single cop stood in the middle of the road, pointing a pistol at me.

  No. Not a pistol. His hand was empty. And open.

  I couldn’t believe it, but he was standing there like a traffic guard, telling me to stop. That was either intense courage, or suicidal optimism, but either way I wasn’t slowing down.

  The thing was, even though I raced straight at him, this cop didn’t move.

  So I did. With only twenty feet to go I pulled into the right lane so I’d drive around him. Fortunately he stayed put. Good thing. I’d have pulped him raw if-

  No.

  At the last second the officer sprang in front of me. I squashed the brakes. My tires locked. But it wasn’t good enough. I plowed into him at full speed.

  My whole body jerked forward, and I bashed my skull against the steering wheel. Sitting back I rubbed my crown. And stared ahead at what had to be the impossible.

  The officer, looking whole and hardy, was holding the front end of my car a few feet off the ground.

  I jammed on the gas and my rear tires shrieked and spun. The smell of seared rubber filled the car like corpse rot. But I didn’t move. Not one bit. So I eased off the petrol and got out. “What the hell?”

  The cop dropped my ride and stepped around it so we were face-to-face. I didn’t notice it before but he was massive, both wide and tall. And he had a gas mask on. Through it he said with a voice as deep as Nietzsche’s thoughts, “You don’t recognize me?”

  I said, “No.”

  “Maybe this’ll help.” With one hand the cop tossed his mask aside, while the other ripped his blue uniform off. Underneath was the orange and white getup I’d seen just two days before.

  And my heart dropped to my guts. Both fell to the street.

  Because I’d just tried to run over Al Mighty.

  Chapter 27

  He put both fists high on his hips and said, “So which way you coming, quiet or bloody?”

  “Kicking and screaming.” I cracked all my knuckles. “This won’t go down like your dance with Hard Drive.”

  Al said, “I sure hope not.” And I swear, underneath that blood red beard, he actually licked his chops. Then he charged me like a longhorn.

  I whipped Lois out and aimed. But Al moved quick for a big man and dropped a meaty hand on my arm. Lois fell to the ground. Before she hit, Al had his other fist in my chin. The blow snapped my head back. And lifted me up.

  I sailed backwards and hit the street, grinding to a halt. Then I sat up. And rubbed my jaw.

  Al came strolling over. “You know, Hard Drive lasted a lot longer than this.”

  Lumbering to my feet I said, “Stow the sugar report and let’s get on with it.”

  Again Al charged.

  I shuffled back with my fists up.

  When he closed in he tossed a hook, high and hard.

  This time I slid the punch, and dug a right cross into his chest. Al folded over. But not as deep as I’d hoped. So I dropped my left fist onto the back of his skull. He fell to one knee. And I hit his chin with a fast uppercut.

  Al sailed back the way he came. But flipped midair. And landed with both feet and one hand on the ground, in the perfect three-point stance.

  I shook my head. “You know how God damn stupid you heroes look pulling that stunt?”

  “Shame. It’ll be the last thing you see.” Al launched towards me again.

  But I was quicker this time, and had Rico out. I blasted a few high-velocities into his thigh, knocking him to the ground.

  Then I turned and ran. As fast as I could. Away from him, and my car. It wasn’t the safe direction. But it was my only choice. I couldn’t beat Al hand-to-hand, so my only hope was to lose him, then double back to make my escape.

  So I turned down the next corner. And before Al could catch up I ducked into an alley. Sliding behind some garbage cans I crouched down and froze.

  A few seconds later he came charging by.

  Skulking to the corner I poked my head out. Al was at the end of the block. He looked both ways, then disappeared around the building to the right.

  So long, you big, red moron.

  I popped out of my hiding spot and started back down the street towards my car, taking the corner at full speed.

  And ran into something hard.

  I tumbled backwards. And a tooth jumped from my craw, cutting a sloppy line across the blacktop. I sat up and blood poured down the back of my throat like a cup of warm copper.

  Standing before me was a five-foot woman rubbing her knuckles. She had on green pants, a tight fitting black, long sleeve shirt, and her brown hair was in a ponytail. Then I saw her face. And the two shiny Trumite fangs that stood out like polished chrome in her smile.

  My heart jumped into my throat, making it so tight there that I could only push out two words. “Gunmetal Gray.”

  “Hey kitten,” she said, “bet you wish you hadn’t snooped around our clean sneak now.”

  I crab walked backwards.

  “No patter? From what I hear that’s ominous.” She charged towards me. And pounced.

  I pulled out Rico.

  Just in time for Gunmetal to grab my hand. We rolled twice, and when we stopped she was straddling me. And had both my
wrists tight. I shoved up against her. But she stayed planted. And opened her mouth wide. I could see my reflection in her sharp canines. That, and a single drop of green venom. It flopped free and fell on my cheek. The burning was a lot like acid.

  She chomped down quick.

  But I turned my face away, and all she bit was ocean air.

  So Gunmetal tried to get closer. But I pulled both arms in, and kept her at bay. She snapped at me twice more. Each chomp was nearer than the last. “Almost there,” she said. “I’ve almost got my mouth on you.”

  “Thanks, I’ll pass.”

  “It’s not up to you.” And a bad day got worse as an electrical charge, red and thin, ran from her right thumb to my wrist. It stung. Worse than a normal shock.

  “No,” I said. “Don’t.”

  Gunmetal smiled. And from the tip of each finger a crimson bolt leapt. All ten ran down my arm, and through my chest on their way to the ground. Every muscle I had locked, including my heart. It felt like I was being cooked from the inside.

  When finally her electricity stopped I went limp, putting up as much of a fight as Vicky Taylor did on our first date. Which is to say, not a lot. Now nothing would stop her from using those Trumite fangs to puncture my meat and inject venom that was more poisonous than Chinese milk. She’d done it before. To dozens of mugs like me.

  After all, she was an assassin who specialized in murdering invulnerable black capes. And that market was one she had near cornered.

  Gunmetal leaned in. Real slow. Savoring the bite. Her teeth were almost on my throat. I could feel her breath. It was getting faster. Hotter.

  Then two long horn blasts blew loud enough to summon a kraken.

  And Gunmetal paused. She looked over her shoulder.

  “That’s enough,” a voice I never thought I’d hear again said. “We have to leave the rest for Mighty.”

  She nodded. And ran off, leaving me flat.

  With great effort I sat up, and watched as she jumped into the back of a pickup truck. It was the same make and model as the one that pushed me and Monday into the drink yesterday. There was even an identical hunk of metal missing from its bumper. Only now it was covered in bright red paint. Behind the wheel was a man in a black suit and derby. He studied me with a left eye that was noticeably bigger than the right, and sat above a cheek cluttered with deep scars.

  It was just like Lee said. Scourge had returned.

  He waved. “Give Al my regards.”

  “You son of a bitch.” Rico was lying a few feet away. I snatched him up and turned to Scourge.

  But he and Gunmetal were gone.

  Which was a wise move.

  Those damn horn blasts would bring every cop on the island. Every cop, and every cape.

  So I got to my feet, holstered Rico, and moved back to my car.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Something grabbed my coat from behind and flung me into a nearby wall.

  I turned and caught a shot to the jaw. Both legs clicked off and I crumpled to the ground. More blood, all hot and wet and mine, cascaded down my chin.

  “We weren’t through,” Al said.

  Looking up I wiped my mouth. “Haven’t had enough yet?”

  “Nope.”

  “Ok. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Quick as I could I drove an uppercut between Al’s thighs. He grunted and bent over. I jumped to my feet and swept his leg. The big bearded strongman fell onto his back. I dropped my left fist on his face like a sledgehammer. Then I dropped my right.

  I stomped his chest.

  Then his gut.

  And finally, I leapt into the air, raised both knees, and pounded my heels into Al’s face, driving his head through the concrete. Standing there breathing hard I said, “You should stay down.”

  Al looked up at me with an unmarred face. “You think?” Then, like Slamazon, he ignored my advice, jumped to his feet with the grace of a cat, and threw an uppercut into my chin.

  It exploded loud, shattering the nearby windows. But then a sort of quiet peace settled around me. The ringing in my ears was replaced by the soft hum of a quiet breeze. I was floating weightless. I spun over. And looked down.

  It was then I realized that Al had launched me thirty feet into the air.

  Buildings passed beneath me. Three in all before I tipped forward and began my descent. I landed on the roof of a building, and plowed through its ceiling, crashing inside.

  I lay still for a few moments, looking through the hole I’d just made at the clouds above. I could’ve done that for hours, but instead I got to my knees, gathered up my scattered wits, and looked around.

  There were dozens of rusted hubcaps littered about the place. Two large holes were in the walls to my right and left. And straight ahead hung a crooked Blackstone’s sign.

  I was back in the hubcap factory.

  Al knocked me back the way I wanted to go. Of all the lucky breaks, I was only a few blocks from my car. All I had to-

  “Still standing, huh?”

  Al was in the hole I’d made earlier, looking fresh.

  I turned and ran the opposite way.

  But he was on me quick. The big man grabbed the back of my collar. And punched a kidney. I screamed and thrashed. But he gave me another one. I tried to collapse. But Al flung me across the room backwards. I crashed through one of the still intact walls, rolled a few times, and settled in a heap on my knees.

  For the moment I was alone, outside. A breeze came in from behind me. I looked back. The Pacific waves were licking the shore not twenty feet away.

  I thought about making a swim for it. But breaststroke’s never been my strong suit.

  “Going somewhere?” Al was outside now, ambling my way like a man without a care.

  I looked up at him. “It was stupid to think I could outfight you.”

  “Yeah.” He grabbed my coat’s lapel, and hauled me to my feet. “It was real dumb.”

  I said, “Should’ve tried to outthink you.”

  “Is that right?” Al lifted up his fist. It looked as big as a ham. But he paused. And lorded his deathblow above my head like it was the Sword of Damocles.

  I took the moment to suck as much blood into my mouth as I could, and spit the glob in his eye.

  He dropped me, and wiped his face clean. The blood was now gone. Replaced by murderous intent. “You son of a bitch. I’ll kill you!”

  I shuffled back towards the sea. “Come on. I’m going to spank you like I did your sister last night. Let’s see if you enjoy it as much as she did.”

  Al’s eyes got huge. He grit his teeth so hard I thought they’d shatter. And he lunged at me. His heavy right led the way. I sidestepped it. Barely. And grabbed his wrist with both hands. Then I spun him around like an Olympic hammer tosser. Once. Twice. Three times.

  But on the fourth pass he began to pull himself towards me. His eyes were wild. The skin around them twisted like old bark. He yelled, “Let me go.”

  And so I did.

  I threw Al Mighty at a perfect forty-five degree angle over the ocean. He sailed high for a spell before gravity remembered to pull him down, and he plummeted into the white foam over four hundred yards out.

  Which is a pretty good toss for a white cape his size.

  But there was no time to mark it. Instead I turned tail and ran back to my Jalopy. Lois was right there next to it. I scooped her up and drove towards the nearest bridge. The cops had pulled back, probably to give Al some room, so I found an unguarded on-ramp and fled back to the city without further delay.

  Normally after a fight like that I’d go to Henchmen’s for a pint of whiskey. But it didn’t seem wise considering how much blood I just lost.

  Chapter 28

  Once I got back to my office I headed upstairs to patch up my mug. Mrs. West was behind her desk in a coral suit, and she looked up at me like I was beating a puppy to death with a bagful of kittens. “What happened to you?”

  “Al Mighty,” I said. “And if it’s all the s
ame, I don’t need any-”

  “To the couch, now.” She leapt up like a spring chicken, instead of the old bird she was, and threw a wing under my arm. For a small dame she dragged strong, and got me on the sofa quick. “Now don’t move. I’m getting the kit.” She ran into my bathroom and came out with a white toolbox.

  “Why’re you being so sweet?” I said, and pointed to my face. “I would think this might cheer you up.”

  “Oh, you’re thinking now? Probably should’ve started that before you went knuckles-to-nose with Big Al.” She looked my mug over. “You got some cuts to seal, but first I got to fix that busted beak. Now hold still.” She grabbed my schnoz, and jerked it to the side. It slid back into place with a hot crunch.

  I sat up and said, “That hurt.”

  Mrs. West shoved me back down. “Less whining, more reclining.” She tore off some medical tape and fastened it over the bridge of my nose. Then she cleaned the gash above my eye and clamped it shut with more tape.

  “Are you done yet?”

  “Well, since that split lip is caked with dried blood, and only time will heal your shiner, I suppose I am.” She grabbed the kit and returned it to the bathroom.

  I got up, walked to my desk, and pulled a bottle of rye from the bottom drawer.

  “That’s more tea,” Mrs. West said.

  I looked at the whiskey. “But the seal’s unbroken. How-”

  “I have skills you’re unaware of. Now sit down.” The batty dame shoved me back with both hands, herding me onto the sofa like a brittle, old collie. “So, Al Mighty? Was it about the case?”

  “Sort of.”

  “You want to talk about it?”

  “Not really.” I leaned back, and put both hands behind my head.

  “Carl always talked things through with me.”

  “Carl had more patience than a city full of hospitals.”

  She kicked my foot. “Don’t be rude. Or, since it’s you, try to be less so. Now do you want to talk or not?”

  I looked at her from the corner of my eye. “I guess it couldn’t hurt.” Taking a deep breath I sorted the facts and prepared to lay them out flat. “So, you know I’m investigating how Widow’s brother and pal were killed on the job in Wentorf Hall. Well, they got said job from Bundy Strong, who shared a cell with them in Impenetron. The thing is, he doesn’t know enough about Wentorf to crack its defenses, or have the skills to plan the strategy itself. For the former, I got no clue how he pulled it off, but for the latter he hired Scourge.”