The Coconut Swindle (Black Cape Case Files Book 2)

by Matt Abraham

We were on an elevated portion of the highway. There were no other cars for miles. And the buildings around us were short, and dark. Beyond them was the ocean. Its wind gusted fierce. And Scourge was limping through it.

  “Oh no you don’t.” I pulled out Rico and fired into the sky.

  But Scourge continued on his way. He was just a few feet from the edge of the highway. The wall there was only three feet high, but on the other side was a two-story drop.

  That fall might kill him. And I wasn’t letting him die like that. So I used my right eye to aim carefully. And when I got my sights lined up nice I fired. The slug knocked his derby off, and it hit the street rolling.

  “Ok. Ok.” Scourge froze. He was right at the edge. But he turned around. And raised both hands high. In one he held Doodle’s red envelope. “Don’t shoot.”

  “Good boy,” I said. “Now slide me that address.”

  He dangled the envelope over the edge. “No.”

  “You’re not giving orders.”

  “Well I’m not taking them, either.”

  “Yes you are. Orders, or this heat.” I motioned to Rico. “You’re taking one.”

  “Nope.” He smiled, and shook the red letter. “Because if I drop this you’ll never see your daughter again.”

  “Maybe,” I said. “Maybe not. But if I put a pill in your liver, she’ll be safe either way. And you know what? I can live with that.” I aimed my rod at his stomach. Truthfully, I had no idea if it was the part that housed the liver. But even if I perforated his bladder I’d still count it as a win.

  “You might be able to live with that,” Scourge said, “but Doodle sure won’t.”

  My finger had the nasty fun urge that can only be calmed by pulling a trigger. But there was something unnaturally earnest in Scourge’s tone. So I stayed my hand. “What do you mean?”

  The wind around us picked up. Scourge had to yell. “You know what’s going down tonight? Your scumbag ex and her spawn are auctioning off the Coconut to the highest bidder.”

  I raised my head from Rico’s sights. “Tera wouldn’t. She’s not that dumb.”

  Scourge laughed. An ugly, rasping thing. “Stupid enough? No. But greedy enough? Definitely.” He looked at me. “Oh Dane, you think your daughter, who’s never left her mother’s side, broke away to send a telegram to only you? That pair’s reached out to every black cape in town who can rub two millions together to auction off the diamond.” He laughed again. “I mean, come on. A telegram? In this day? Sketch doesn’t want you to save her, she needs you to stand in the way of those who don’t win the diamond while her and Mommy escape with the green. How did you not see it? I knew your skin was thick, just not that thick. Your kid’s been using you. From the beginning.” Then Scourge got more sly. An impressive feat. “You think one of them tipped off Swamp? Something like this usually doesn’t stay quiet for long.” He lifted the address higher. The wind had it flapping like his gums. “In one hour every black cape’s going to show up for a diamond, or your baby’s blood. Shoot me, and you’ll never know where.”

  “No.” A bidding war. Tera was going for a bidding war. That daffy dame-

  “I’m bored,” Scourge said, and gave my letter to the breeze. The red paper flew from his hand and danced right at me, twisting and turning in the wind. I reached out for it.

  But with only one eye open the telegram sailed clean through my fingers. I turned and chased it. But the paper flew skyward, like a butterfly. I watched it sail up and away, taking with it any hope of saving my daughter. Higher and higher it went.

  Then the wind died. And my letter drifted down like a leaf, landing right in front of me. I stomped on the paper, trapping it to the ground. And spun towards Scourge, ready to add three pounds of warm metal to his torso.

  But the shifty rodent was gone.

  I placed Rico back in his perch, then snatched up the address. As I walked back to my car I blinked a bit, trying to calm the throbbing in my left eye. It didn’t work, but amazingly I could still see fine from it. Scourge’s blade must’ve only hit the whites. It was good news, especially since I could read the letter clearly.

  188th Street. An old abandoned girly club called Crush.

  I knew it well. But I had to be there by four am. That meant there was only a little over an hour left before the meet. Still, that gave me some time. But then I saw my ride.

  The front end was crushed. And the axle had snapped. That thing was going nowhere.

  But sitting nearby was Scourge’s ride. And his Jalopy was perfect, save for the Dane size hole in its windshield. I ran to it and looked in. The keys were still there. I turned them and the car came to life, purring like a happy tabby. Perfect. I loved the idea of a sled that could change its face. I threw one foot inside. But next to my other, with a loud clang, landed a metal canister the size of a football.

  I said, “Son of a-” as the metal tube exploded in a cloud of blue smoke. I covered my eyes and stumbled away from the car, hacking. Another canister landed nearby. It erupted too, adding more viper vapor to the already thick air. I dropped to a knee. I could barely breathe. Then two vans pulled up the on-ramp. They came to a halt, and belched out a dozen black clad lawmen. Across their chests were the four letters I was learning to hate.

  “SPECs, fan out and watch your fire. The gas should daze him, but let’s not make any mistakes.”

  A rifle butt struck my temple. I fell to my back. Somebody kicked my flank. I rolled to my stomach and tried to get up, but a dozen hands pinned me down.

  Even with their combined strength they shouldn’t be able to hold me.

  Turns out it was going to take more time to heal from that venom than I thought.

  My hands got yanked behind me. And even over their yells I could hear the sickening click-click-click of Trumite handcuffs.

  Then there was stillness. And the smoke was abating.

  But my head still swam in a hazy pool of nauseous blue. I rolled onto my back and looked up. Standing there was an old friend. He spoke into his radio. “This is SPEC Commander Waters, bring up the dragon wagon, we got him.”

  Chapter 48

  “And the Coconut, too.” Waters was talking proud. Monday said these guys weren’t cops, but they sure sounded like them when they made a collar. “We’ll be bringing him to Impenetron in the wagon. What’s that, please repeat? Affirmative, the diamond goes home first. Waters out.” He turned to me and smiled. “Tried to steal the Coconut, huh? You’ve gotten the farthest of anyone. Fortunately the museum pegged you the second you got outside, and now you’re heading to the clink. Hope you like bars as much as you hate sunshine. Box him, boys.”

  Two SPECs reached under my shoulders, hoisted me up, and hauled me to the dragon wagon. Its insides were completely smooth, with two benches against the walls, and all of it was made of thin Trumite sheets. They shoved me in and slammed the doors. I lay there with my hands behind my back. It was dark. Silent.

  But then the wagon came to life. And even in my drowsy state I have to say it lived up to its name. If real dragons were as loud as this one I haven’t been giving Saint George enough credit.

  It pulled out and I slid to the rear. We were now heading to the museum. And after that it would be a straight shot to Impenetron.

  That didn’t leave a lot of options for escape.

  But Doodle was up north with her mom, getting ready to open a can of black cape worms that would kill them both unless I freed myself from this rolling cage. And I never let having no options stop me before.

  My first step was getting the cuffs off.

  Then I’d break those doors down. Somehow.

  Sitting up I leaned against the back wall. Sliding the cuffs below my knees I pulled both heels in. Then I slipped my hands beneath them, and out in front of me.

  I pat my jacket. Both pistols were still there. I guess when you bag black capes guns aren’t something you naturally look for. That was their first mistake.

  Leaving me my lock pick was their seco
nd.

  I pulled it out and heard Carl Cutter’s voice in my head. “Learn to use this. Muscle isn’t an all-purpose tool.”

  Thanks for the advice, pops.

  Taking a deep breath I steadied myself. The blue smoke was still floating behind my eyes, dulling all five senses. Fortunately I was just working with cuffs. Door locks are a hell of a lot harder, but still, I pushed the hazy numbness down, thankful that invulnerables can withstand an unhealthy amount of sedatives, and focused. Using my left hand I steadied the lock, and slid the safeguard that covered the keyhole aside. Then, with my right, I guided the pick’s thin metal point inside.

  Slowly I twisted the lock clockwise, like I was winding a watch. I got from noon all the way to midnight. But nothing happened. So I rotated it in the opposite direction.

  The mechanism spun. And it gave a click. The cuff stayed locked, but it was almost there. Then the wagon came to sharp stop. I slid down the floor and rolled, dropping my pick. Outside the front doors opened. Then shut. And we started moving again.

  That had to have been the museum. Next stop, ten years of my life.

  Pawing the floor I found the pick. Then I clicked the cuff’s guard out of the way again, and pushed the thin metal inside. Rotating counterclockwise I got the mechanism all the way around, and the cuff opened wide.

  Halfway there.

  I pulled my left hand free and gave it a shake. Then I passed my pick to it and started on my right. I moved the guard and spun the same way. After one pass it stayed locked. That’s the problem with my left paw, it’s about as useful as a palsy hand. I jammed the pick in as deep as it would go. And spun again. This time the mechanism gave a satisfying click, and the cuffs dropped to the floor.

  I pocketed my lock pick, pulled out Lois, and depressed her trigger halfway. She doubled in size and width, and bathed the room with a green glow, which I used like a lantern to study the doors.

  Both were as smooth as a conman’s tongue. There were no handles or locks. Not even hinges. And the gaps between the wall and door were too thin for a needle.

  That left me one choice. The one I warned Johan about. The one Carl cautioned against. Muscle.

  I clicked off Lois’ safety and her grip spit the twin bracers that ran up my arm like latticework, strapping her to me. I stepped back and aimed at the spot that should be between the two handles on the other side. My Kapowitzer was the most powerful handgun on the market. And the Trumite was probably so thin I might burn a hole through it.

  But would that hole be big enough? And what was on the other side? Could be nothing.

  Could be a car with a family of four.

  So I stepped closer. And pressed the barrel to the door, clicked on narrow shot, and angled it upwards, high enough so the blast would sear through the metal, but wouldn’t hit anything save the man in the moon. Then, with my cannon prepped, I braced myself.

  And pulled the trigger.

  The Kapowitzer blasted hot light. I flew back, bounced off the far wall, and fell to the ground.

  With a ringing head I got to my knees. And shook the buzzing in my ears away. Slowly my sight returned. Lois was glowing red. But she wasn’t the only light source in the wagon. Now there was a hole in the door about the size of a baseball.

  I jumped up, and charged, throwing my weight into the exit. The impact knocked me back and I fell as the gate stayed shut.

  The locks were still in place. Damn it.

  I crawled back, and peered out the hole. There was traffic. But it was all civilian. And I could also see the door handle a few inches to the right. I pulled out the lock pick. Lois illuminated it with her red glow.

  And I heard Carl say, “Learn to use this. Muscle isn’t-”

  Shut up, old man. I get it.

  I holstered Lois, then took the pick in my left hand and fished it through the hole. Finding the key slot on the other side of the door, I slipped the thin metal inside. Now all I had to do was unlock it. Backwards. And blind. With my left hand. While moving.

  Yay.

  I began to fish the metal around. The tumblers were there. And they wanted to line up. They wanted to release so badly. All they needed was a push. So I moved the pick up. And down. I jimmied it side-to-side. I twisted it left. Then right. And the door swung wide open.

  Holy shit…

  Behind the wagon a whole lot of traffic and tall buildings were flying by. We were downtown. Inside the city. And traveling maybe forty miles an hour. Five or six cars were following close. And not one of those drivers failed to notice me. With my right hand I yanked Rico out, and pointed him their way. With the other hand I lifted a single finger to my lips, and shook my head.

  The cars all slowed down, and pulled to the side.

  With my wake now clear I stepped out.

  And hit the street rolling like a tumbleweed. Coming to rest I jumped up. A vehicle zipped by on my right. Two more passed on the left. It was like being in a stampede.

  A car came charging towards me. It hit the brakes. All four tires locked as their rubber painted the road. And it came to a stop a few inches from my knees.

  The driver rolled down his window and said, “Hurry up, get in.”

  “Monday?”

  The blond Viking was behind the wheel. “Let’s go, we don’t got all day.”

  I ran around to the passenger side and hopped in. “188th street, driver. And step lively.”

  “Done and done.” Monday hit the gas, and took the next turn.

  I looked at the cop. “Not that I’m ungrateful, but how and why?”

  “After I got that cycle out from under my car I arrived on scene, but they already had you cuffed and stuffed. Outside the wagon Waters was talking to central and Johan’s claiming you’re behind Firewall and Thermite’s death. She says you scuffled with the boys and ended up killing them during your first try, but then learned from the mistake and succeeded tonight.”

  “How’s she saying I got the rock?”

  “Don’t know. Mind control? Doppelgänger? This town’s not normal, so I’m sure she’ll cook something up just north of unbelievable.”

  “Fat chance.”

  “You think? They got eyewitnesses who saw you break into the Amphibia Theatre a few nights back. They got Johan saying you were in Wentorf tonight, too. And since you lifted that Kessel Glass display they got your prints underneath it as-”

  “And my DNA,” I said, “because I spit in my hand. But you were there, you know the truth.”

  “So? I got a feeling if I speak up they’ll try to pin it on me since on your first day I followed you out for a tete-a-tete. And maybe they’ll say I helped you escape after your dance with the SPECs, too.”

  “Damn.” All of a sudden Johan’s thinking didn’t seem so bad. Maybe she was child-of-destiny special.

  “Cheer up. If we retrieve the real Coconut we should come out of this fine. Now where in the Outskirts are we headed exactly?”

  “A closed down club called Crush.”

  Monday pulled onto the expressway. He grabbed his radio. “I’m going to have to call it in.”

  “Please do,” I said. “I need as much backup as possible. And considering the likely black cape turnout I don’t care if your boys are wearing blue suits or white capes.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. It’s going to be a convention.”

  “What if I can only get patrolmen, will you be able to handle it solo?”

  I thought about who might be there. With Gunmetal rotting away on some dingy floor all I had to contend with was Scourge. Maybe Swamp and Vector. Possibly Bundy Strong. Along with a large helping of the wealthiest, most antisocial black capes inside these city limits. That stacked the odds against me coming out in one piece. But when it’s your kid, coming out in one piece odds don’t mean much. I said, “Sure thing.”

  Don’t worry, baby. I’m on my way.

  Chapter 49

  Crush, the old dance club, was one story with walls mostly made of boarded up o
r blackened windows. The buildings around it had been demolished, or simply crumbled of their own accord, so it sat on the block like a stumpy monolith, completely alone save for a few fancy automobiles parked out front.

  But when we got three blocks from it, a cop jumped out from the corner and waved us over. Monday pulled down a side street and stopped behind a building. The young kid ran to the driver’s side and leaned down. “Hey detective,” he said. “We got the perimeter set up as ordered.”

  “Good,” Monday said. “How many you got?”

  “About eight.”

  “Cars?”

  “No, men.”

  Monday sighed. “So you’re not surrounding the building?”

  “Oh, we are. It’s just not with as thick a blue line as you’d like. But we got a team on every corner, four blocks from the club in all directions.”

  Monday nodded. “And the SPECs, they onsite?

  “Not yet. But we saw Manfred Mayhem arrive about ten minutes back and called it in, so they should be here soon. Hopefully along with a white cape or two, though this won’t be a priority since there’s no action yet, or civilians around.”

  I leaned over. “What’re your men armed with?”

  He looked past Monday. “Just service pieces, shotguns, and viper vapor.”

  “Gas?” I said. “You guys are going non-lethal?”

  “With a guy like Mayhem it’s bullets that’re non-lethal. At least the vapor’s got a chance of knocking him flat.”

  “Thanks,” Monday said. “Get back in position.”

  The officer tipped his cap and returned to the corner.

  “Park this thing over there,” I said, “in front of Toots’ Sweets.”

  Monday pulled up to the candy shop, and we got out.

  “What’re we doing here?” he asked.

  “There’s a back door into Crush, and I’m about to use it.”

  “You sure?”

  “My kid’s in there with Manfred Mayhem and who knows what other villains, and soon the SPECs and white capes will arrive, so yeah. I’m going in, grabbing her, and coming back out as fast as I can.”

  “Do you want me with you? Maybe get the force to run interference?”