Antenna Syndrome

by Alan Annand

  I nodded at the canvas and paints. “What’s with this studio?”

  “They’re trying to keep me happy,” she grunted as she worked at the buckled strap. “But really, I’m a captive.”

  “Have you seen other people here?”

  “Some are victims of the Brooklyn Blast, disfigured by radiation burns. Globik’s doing work on them in exchange for their undying loyalty.”

  “What’s Eddie’s role in all this?”

  “Thanks to new legs, he thinks Globik’s a genius. He says Globik’s backed by the Russian mob. Eddie and Buzz are trained as special operatives to handle that swarm of giant hornets Globik’s developed.”

  She finally got the first strap undone, and started on the second.

  “I heard Globik on the phone, talking about derailing your father’s political campaign…”

  “In every public speech, my father’s promised that New York will never become Moscow on the Hudson. It was a double-edged barb – against bureaucratic corruption and Russian gangs – and the bratva would’ve seen it as a direct threat.”

  “You’re a well-informed young woman.”

  “My father never had much time for me, but I was always interested in his career. He was a lousy father but he’d make a great mayor.”

  The second strap fell away and she started on the third.

  “Maybe Eddie never loved you. Maybe Globik just used him to take you hostage, to force your father out of the mayoralty race.”

  She shook her head. “Globik picked the wrong candidate to threaten. I can see the headlines. Gangland Slaying of Daughter Intensifies Jordan’s War on Crime. Globik should run while he can, or my father will stamp him out with the rest of the cockroaches.”

  Unless Harris Jordan dies tomorrow, I thought. “Where’s your father’s summer home?”

  “Hunter Mountain, up in the Catskills.”

  The last strap was unhitched. Still woozy, I swung my legs off the gurney. My throat ached and there was a painful kink in my neck. “We need to get out of here. If Buzz shows up, I’m dead.”

  “They might not kill you. You may be more valuable as a working specimen. With a brainwash and selective grafting, Globik could turn you into another soldier like Buzz.”

  “Not if I can help it.”

  I raised the blinds and opened the window. It was a three-story drop to the street. I took two restraining straps, joined them with reef knots and anchored them to a radiator beneath the window. That gave us about 12 feet of lifeline and a 12-foot drop, enough to break a leg. I needed to tie on the third strap.

  “Someone’s coming,” she hissed.

  The doorknob rattled. “Marielle? Open up.”

  “It’s Eddie.” She came to my side as a key entered the lock.

  The door flung open and Crabner barreled in. He was the hairiest punk I’d ever seen. Only five-foot-six, but as muscular as a wrestler, with oddly-bowed legs and long arms thick with black hair. He looked at me standing between him and Marielle.

  “I thought I tucked you in for the night.”

  “I’m an insomniac,” I said. “I need to go for a walk.”

  “This time I’ll give you a dose that’ll put you asleep for a week.” Crabner smiled and pushed back his upper lip to reveal barbed canines.

  “Watch out,” Marielle said. “Globik gave him dental implants with spider venom.”

  “Shut up, bitch. You want a taste of it too?”

  “Try some of your own medicine,” I said. “You look like you need some beauty sleep.”

  He rushed me with arms outstretched. I’d have preferred a baseball bat but all I had was the restraining strap. I snapped it like a whip in his face, and the buckle tore a piece of flesh from his nose.

  He bellowed with pain, touched his face and saw bloody fingers. He dove for my knees. I leapfrogged over him and looped the strap around his neck. We tumbled head-over-heels across the floor, me ending on top of him, the strap noosed around his neck, but his hands around my throat. It was a Mexican choke-off, mutually-assured strangulation.

  As his face turned purple, he started hollering his head off. Someone could show up any minute.

  Marielle rolled up in her chair, a tube of oil paint in her fist. Crabner kicked a wheel, and the chair toppled, spilling her onto the floor. She crawled to him, thrust the tube of paint into his mouth and squeezed. A lava of red oil paint boiled over his lips as he gagged and coughed, spattering both of us.

  His grip on me slackened. He yanked the paint tube from his mouth and flung it across the room. He grabbed Marielle’s arm and tried to bite her. I freed a hand and smashed my fist into his bloody nose. She yanked her arm back and scrabbled away. His face was now a big smear of red – paint mixed with blood – in his mouth, eyes and nose. He gagged crimson as I tightened the noose again, but he began to thrash so violently I couldn’t hold him. I flung myself clear and backed into a corner with Marielle.

  Crabner staggered upright and lurched in circles around the room, coughing and groping blindly for us. Something was wrong with him. He smacked headfirst into the wall, leaving a red splotch where he’d made impact. Sudden spasms shook him like an epileptic. He shrieked and fell convulsing to the floor.

  “He’s going into anaphylactic shock,” I said.

  “It was the vermilion,” she said. “The pigment contains highly toxic mercuric sulfide.”

  I joined the third strap to the other two and scooped Marielle up. “Put your arms around my neck and hold on tight.” I had one leg over the windowsill when Globik appeared in the doorway.

  He raised a gun at me. I saw a suppressor and realized it was my own Heckler & Koch. He pulled the trigger but nothing happened. Maybe he’d forgotten to take off the safety.

  “You fool,” he shouted at Crabner. “Stop them.”

  In his convulsive state, Crabner couldn’t have known who it was. He crashed into Globik’s legs and knocked the doctor to the floor. The last thing I saw as I climbed out the window was Crabner crouched over his patron, blindly driving his venomous teeth again and again into the screaming, then silent, Dr. Globik.

  Chapter 50

  When I reached the limit of the straps, I dropped heavily but unharmed to the street. With Marielle in my arms I ran up Collister to Laight. My car was gone, Major nowhere to be seen. I looked up and down the street, wondering if EDGAR was on the prowl. What else could have scared Major off?

  A car horn tapped twice. I looked east and saw a car further up Laight blink its lights. I waved. The Charger rocketed toward us and squealed to a stop in front of me. The passenger door swung open and Major beckoned urgently. I jumped in with Marielle and he hit the gas. At the end of Laight, Major turned up West Street and pulled over.

  Werewolf thrust his head over the back of my seat and lathered Marielle’s face with his slobbery tongue. She giggled and ruffled his ears and we all heaved a collective sigh of relief. I realized I’d been hugging her so tight the poor thing could hardly breathe. I helped her into the back seat where she proceeded to give Werewolf a neck rub.

  “Why didn’t you answer your phone?” Major grumbled. “I thought you were dead.”

  I told him what had happened. “Why didn’t you come looking for me?”

  “Patrol cops showed up right after I returned to the car, asked me why I was parked there. I said I’d had a fight with the wife and gone out for a drive. They asked for license and registration, wanted to know why I was driving your car. Although I swore you’d loaned it to me, I thought they were going to search the car. I had to play the veteran’s card, told them a sob story about my tours of duty, my PTSD, my three divorces... They let me go, but followed me halfway to Hell’s Kitchen before they returned to their beat.

  “I kept calling you but got no answer. I drove back down here but couldn’t park for fear they’d spot me again. I thought I’d have to stash your ride in a parking compound and return on foot to rescue your sorry ass.”

  “Thanks for not giving up on me
.”

  “I was just thinking about my per diem.”

  “You want to get paid? Then let’s go back and take care of unfinished business.”

  “You’ve got the girl. What else do you want?”

  “We need to find Buzz, to capture or kill him. If I don’t come up with something to prove how Boyle and Mundt died, the cops will take the shortcut to justice and fry the guy who last saw them alive – me.” Earlier I’d glossed over the detectives’ deaths, but now I told Major what Buzz had done to Boyle and Mundt in my office.

  “For real?” Major stared at me. “Or have you been skipping your meds?”

  “It’s true,” Marielle said. “Buzz is a killing machine.”

  “Jesus.” Major shook his head and put the car back in gear.

  We went around the block and returned to Laight, finding a parking place opposite the Holland Tunnel approach, two blocks from the clinic. I didn’t want to leave Marielle alone in the car but she said she’d be fine if Werewolf stayed with her. Originally I’d thought we’d take him along for the hunt, but I took a Taser from my glove compartment and left her with it, suggesting she stay low and out of sight.

  Major and I walked back to the Avatar Clinic, shotguns slung from our shoulders, him with the case of Molotov cocktails in his arms.

  The straps still hung from the third-story window in the back. I climbed up and entered the room. Globik and Crabner lay in a messy heap near the door, both dead. I recovered my pistol and toggled the safety switch. The Heckler & Koch was ready for some wet work.

  I returned to the window. Major had tied the case onto the end of the straps. I pulled it up and dropped the line down to him. He came up hand over hand like a gorilla on steroids. He reeled the straps in but left the window open in case we needed a quick exit.

  We discussed tactics and then got on with it. After I’d disabled the central alarm system, we went upstairs, easing open doors and going in with guns ready. All of the rooms contained a creature or two, some in cages, some shackled to rings embedded in the floor. Hard to say exactly what they were, but the general consensus was, abominations.

  I recalled what Yamazaki had found in Globik’s lab notes – design sketches for athletes with grasshopper legs, spies with moth-like antennae, fighter pilots with compound eyes… The Avatar Clinic had been developing prototypes, but none of them looked healthy. We didn’t hesitate more than a New York heartbeat to put them out of their misery.

  Morality didn’t get in the way. Major had served three tours of combat, and I’d spent five years in the underbelly of the city, exterminating things that threatened human health and safety. These were man-made vermin that never should have seen the light of day.

  We went from room to room, our silenced pistols killing as we went. We were pretty quiet and our victims, if they had voices at all, died with barely a squeak. We reloaded and took the Molotov cocktails to the top of the stairs. We lit the wicks of two bottles and threw a pair at each end of the third floor hallway. The carpet and walls caught fire and spread.

  We repeated our scorched-floor policy on the second level. Another dozen mutants put down, but still no sign of Buzz. I feared he was lying in wait, and the next door I opened, I’d see only the blur of his mandible jaws before I lost my head.

  I returned to the ground floor, leaving Major on the second to serve more Molotov cocktails. I could hear the growing fire on the third floor. It wouldn’t be long before the police and fire department would arrive.

  I grabbed my tote bag as I passed the receptionist’s desk and hurried to Globik’s office. I spotted my iFocals on his desk. I put them on and scanned the room. In the corner behind his desk, the red spiders in the translucent globe danced in a frenzy.

  Thus far, we’d used our suppressed pistols to kill in relative silence, retaining the advantage of surprise as we moved between floors. But by now the fire was in full roar on the top floors, and there were no more residents to awaken. I racked a shotgun load and blew the globe to smithereens. A handful of spiders clung to the walls in a sticky clot. I fired again, smearing them to oblivion.

  I met Major at the receptionist’s desk. I lit a Molotov cocktail, went down the hall and hurled it at Globik’s credenza. As the flames enveloped the wooden cabinet, I hurried back to join Major.

  We entered the basement lab and acted like vandals. We opened the refrigeration units, yanked their shelves from the racks, spilled their contents onto the floor. Insect bodies and parts of all sizes crunched under our feet as we moved up and down the aisles, smashing everything.

  In the operating room I opened the valves on the oxygen tanks. It whistled out under high pressure and I felt giddy with destructive power. We broke the cisterns of ethyl alcohol. It spilled and spread across the floor, filling the air with a throat-tightening acrid vapor.

  We retreated to the stairs, lit the wicks on our last Molotov cocktails and flung them simultaneously. We slammed the door shut and ran. The basement door billowed open in a cloud of flame that singed our heels as we scrambled into the ground floor hallway. The air was thick with a noxious cumulus of smoke descending from the upper floors.

  Knowing the fire department would arrive any moment, we went out the back door, leaping from the loading bay to hit the ground running. We crossed Hudson and climbed an iron fence that kept pedestrian traffic out of the traffic loop circling St. John’s Park. We stumbled through a construction site in the dark, sprinted across the Holland Tunnel approach, and climbed another fence to get to the car.

  I unlocked the doors and we jumped in. Down the block, two fire trucks arrived in front of the Avatar Clinic. Flames were shooting from the third story windows, and a pall of smoke rose against the sky. More sirens were coming. I took the first right at Hudson and headed uptown as fast as the traffic lights would let me.

  Chapter 51

  My heart stopped pounding around 14th Street. I headed toward 11th Avenue and the Hutton Hotel. It was only then that I noticed Marielle crying in the back seat.

  I looked at her in the rearview mirror. “Are you okay?”

  “I killed Eddie,” she sobbed.

  “Like you said, he wasn’t the same Eddie anymore.”

  “He was my friend,” she wailed.

  Major and I exchanged looks. Some friend, I thought, but said nothing.

  She sniffled. Major found tissues in the glove compartment and passed them back. She blew her nose and sniffled some more. Werewolf tried to lick the tears from her cheeks but she pushed him away and slumped against the window, staring out into the dark streets.

  “Listen up, Marielle,” I said. “We need to take care of unfinished business. I’m dropping you at Natalie’s hotel. You’ll be safe with her.”

  “Take me home. Viv’s probably worried sick about me. I miss her.”

  “Sorry, not an option. The police are looking for me, and your father’s house will be high on their watch list.”

  “Then send me home in a taxi.”

  “Buzz is still out there. I can’t risk him getting his hands on you again.”

  I called Natalie Jordan, waking her up, saying we’d be there in minutes. At the hotel, I left Major with the car, wrapped Marielle in my jacket and carried her into the lobby. To her credit, Natalie had already cleared me with hotel security. A few minutes later, I delivered Marielle to Natalie’s suite.

  She greeted us in a dressing gown, her face still pillow-flushed. “You poor darling.” She opened her arms to take Marielle from me. “You look exhausted. Let’s make you a cup of tea, and then run a bath. You’ve been through a lot.”

  Marielle’s face crinkled and then she was crying again, great tear-jerking sobs this time, as Natalie rocked her in her arms and stroked her hair. “You’re safe now. Your big sister will take care of you.”

  I stood there feeling like a third party on a honeymoon while Natalie nestled Marielle among the sofa pillows. The sideboard had a cartridge machine for coffee and teas. Natalie selected a chamomile
and started the machine

  “I want the whole story, start to finish,” she said.

  “I’ll fill you in later. I gotta go.”

  “You still work for me,” she said.

  “No, we’re done. I delivered Marielle into your hands. Mission accomplished. Next stop, payday.”

  “You’ll have to wait till the banks open.”

  “Get the money ready. I’ll be back later.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “To find your father, make sure he’s safe.”

  “Alone?”

  “I have help.” My two sidekicks – a psycho war vet and rabid dog – were waiting in the car.

  “Somewhere down the road, maybe there’s a story here?”

  “Probably. The like of which your publication has never dreamed.”

  “They dream up some pretty wild ones. Will you tell me yours?”

  “Don’t press Marielle for too much yet. She’s been through the mill.”

  “I can see that.”

  “Bye, Marielle, I’ll see you later.” I waved goodbye and left.

  ~~~

  The sun was rising as we crossed the George Washington Bridge, leaving Manhattan behind. On our way out of town I’d worried out loud to Major that, if the police put out an alert for me, they’d track my car via its electronic VIN-tag. He said he’d take care of that. We stopped at a 24-hour service station outside of Englewood to gas up and let Werewolf out for a leak. Major lifted the Charger’s hood and pulled a combat-utility knife from his belt.

  I phoned the Jordan house in East Massapequa. It took half a dozen rings before Vivien answered the phone. She sounded more exhausted than sleepy.

  “It’s Savage. Sorry if I woke you.”

  “I wasn’t sleeping.”

  “Have the cops been there?”

  “Thanks to you,” she said with some bitterness, “the NYPD issued an arrest warrant for Jack and his Russian girlfriend. Two Nassau County detectives showed up around midnight and grilled me for an hour, wanting to know where Jack went.”