by Rob Byrnes
Nick’s buttocks finally squeezed through the transom. He felt the unpleasant scrape of hard metal against tender flesh, but ignored it until he was home free. With one last yank on the pipe, he pulled his legs and feet through the opening…
Those were the circumstances leading up to the moment when Nick Donovan dangled naked from an overhead pipe, wearing only a black mask, and the elevator doors opened.
Edward Hepplewhite stepped into the hall. He had only intended to get into work early; he hadn’t intended to step onto the fifth floor and immediately be confronted by a naked masked man. It took a few seconds for the realization that there was, indeed, a naked masked man suspended from a pipe in the fifth floor hallway to kick in, but when it did…
The last thing Edward remembered was the room spinning.
June Forteene stormed out of Starbucks. She was beyond angry.
Neither the manager nor the cops seemed to be especially interested in the fact she’d been violated once again. The cops more or less said they had better things to do, and the guy at Starbucks more or less said it happened all the time, and it was mostly her own fault for leaving her laptop and phone unattended.
Once, in the past, she would have accepted those excuses. But she wasn’t that woman anymore.
Hillary Morris was dead. Dead and deleted.
“You think he’s dead?” Farraday asked as he held an armful of laptops and looked at Edward Hepplewhite sprawled across the floor, and definitely didn’t look at the naked young man standing next to him. “You coulda given him a heart attack or somethin’.”
Nick nudged Edward with his toe and was rewarded with the twitch of a muscle. “Nah. Just passed out.”
“In that case, put your damn clothes on before you give me a heart attack.”
Chrissy Alton walked toward East Eighty-first Street from the Seventy-seventh Street subway station. Her progress was slower than she’d hoped, but that was always a problem when a person was trying to navigate the mean streets of New York City in a pair of Louboutin heels.
And it probably would have been a good idea to have shoplifted the right size in the first place. But she was in a rush that day, so the shoes she grabbed were close, but not quite perfect.
Oh, sure, her husband Karl could and would be a dentist forever, so they’d never want for food or shelter. But his practice was on Staten Island—not in Manhattan—so they’d probably want for everything else. She would, that was; Karl was fine with what they had. Chrissy had always wanted more.
Fortunately, she had a talent.
Shoplifting had proven a good way for her to get the finer things in life without busting the family budget. She was good—hadn’t been caught yet, which was important because Karl definitely would not approve of her sideline—and after a dozen years in the business she’d not only perfected her skills, but she’d started to meet professional associates like Chase LaMarca, which broadened her career prospects.
Although, she thought as she sat for a moment on a half wall outside a tony apartment building to give her feet some brief relief, if I’m gonna shoplift to get the things I want, I should probably pay more attention to size.
Kevin Wunder struggled under the weight of his own building superintendent. “What the hell are you doing, Robles?”
The super—already envisioning the headlines and public acclaim for having helped save New York City from the Great Argentine Leaping Bedbug Epidemic—tried to force the bag out of Wunder’s hand. “I’m making sure you don’t infest this entire city with those things.”
Although most of the other tenants kept their distance—those bedbugs leapt, dammit!—Wunder felt other hands on him. Still, Robles was the one he always tipped during the holiday season, and he had been the one who’d tackled him, so he was on the receiving end of his anger.
“You moron, there’s no such thing as—” He realized his hand was no longer gripping the bag handle. “Where the hell is my laptop?”
From beneath Robles, Kevin Wunder glanced along the ground. He saw a few random knees and a pair of red-soled shoes walking quickly away, but no trace of his laptop bag.
Red-faced, he hollered, “Call the police!”
“Stand back, everyone!” Angelina demanded. “He’s out of control.”
The crowd moved to the opposite sidewalk.
Farraday drove the garbage truck out of the alley and onto Eighth Avenue. Without looking at Nick he turned onto a eastbound side street.
“This job is all screwed up.” He said it more to himself than Nick, and was surprised when the kid answered.
“It’s all coming together, Farraday. Remember: The Conundrum is on this job.”
“Jesus Christ,” Farraday muttered. “Shoulda listened to my instincts and told Lambert to get the hell out of my life.”
At that moment, the out-of-breath Jamie Brock barreled out of an elevator and fell over Edward Hepplewhite, who was still on the floor but had regained consciousness.
“Ow!” they both said as Jamie landed on the floor next to Edward.
Jamie looked over at him. “Who the hell are you?”
Edward looked back. “Don’t hurt me!”
“Hurt you?” Jamie picked himself up from the floor. “Why would I hurt you?”
Edward shrank back, afraid to stand. “Are you with the other guy?”
Jamie wasn’t quite sure how to answer, so he decided to stay vague. “Which other guy?”
“The naked guy who was hanging from the pipe.”
Jamie was pretty sure he wasn’t with that guy. “No. I think I’m on the wrong floor. Or, uh, something like that.” He scrambled to his feet and pressed the elevator’s down button before something colorful up near the ceiling caught his eye. “What’s that?”
“What’s what?” Edward followed Jamie’s pointed finger. And then he recoiled.
“Is that—” He squinted. “Underwear?”
“Oh my God!” Edward had to look away. “What kind of sick bastard—”
“It’s Superman underwear!”
Edward almost retched. “I have…to go back…to Penn-sylvania…”
Grant sat on the same bench in the Roosevelt Island Tram Park where he’d worked out the plan a few days earlier and, again, he stared at traffic. Chase sat next to him, working his phone. He had been painfully pessimistic, but—bit by bit—most of the jobs were coming together. Yes, they were behind schedule, and that would make things much more difficult, but at least they were making progress.
“Farraday and Nick pulled it off at June’s office, although Farraday said something about Nick being naked. Not sure what that’s all about.”
Grant closed his eyes. “Let’s hope he found his clothes.”
“The thing is, Farraday said something about his clothes being almost as bad.” Chase shrugged it off. “They’re on the road now and should be meeting up with Lisa and Mary Beth in about ten minutes.”
Grant took a look at his watch. “They’ll still finish up before people start arriving at the campaign headquarters, so I guess that job can almost be considered done. How’s Constance doing with Wunder?”
“They’re about to close up shop. Somehow—don’t ask, ’cause I don’t know—they got Wunder’s own super to take him out. Chrissy got his laptop and she’s on her way to meet up with the garbage truck.”
“What about his cell?”
“Constance lifted it from his suit coat after the super tackled him. She’s gonna dispose of it.”
Grant shook his head and allowed himself a tiny smile. “Wish I coulda seen that job play out. Sounds like they put on quite a show.”
“Doesn’t it?” Chase ticked off the jobs on one hand. “So we got June’s cell and phone; Wunder’s cell and phone; cleaned out June’s office; about to clean out the campaign headquarters…” He paused and looked out at traffic, trying to figure out if he’d forgotten anything. “That’s it, right?”
Grant stretched and some parts that weren’t his neck cracked.
They both noticed. “Everything except the last job. The biggest job of them all.”
“Oh yeah.” Chase frowned. “Concannon’s office.”
Grant looked at his watch again. “That’s the one. Of course, now that we’re running so far behind schedule we’re gonna have some big problems with that one. There’s no way we’re gonna get in and out before her staff arrives for work.”
“So…” Chase looked at him. “What should we do?”
“Exactly what I’ve been sitting here trying to do. Come up with a perfect Plan B.” Grant Lambert sighed. “Which is easier said than done.”
The dark blue garbage truck lumbered to a stop at the corner of Lexington Avenue and East Fifty-sixth Street outside the temporary PEEBLES FOR THE PEOPLE storefront, and Farraday lumbered out of the driver’s seat.
Seconds later, The Conundrum stood at his side, drawing stares from a handful of otherwise jaded early-morning New York pedestrians and causing Farraday no little amount of embarrassment. He tried to ignore the supervillain who shadowed him and pushed the door. Tried to ignore him so much, in fact, that he shoved the door closed in Nick’s face as soon as he was over the threshold.
Or maybe that was on purpose.
Lisa looked at them impatiently. “You’re late.”
“Tell me about it. Jamie Brock never showed, meaning we had to pull the job on June Forteene’s office with just the two of us.”
“Oh.” She might have said more, but that’s when she saw The Conundrum in his black mask and blue tights and black boots and blood-red cape and was rendered speechless.
Mary Beth, approaching from the back of the room, did not have the same reaction.
“What the fuck?!” She stopped mid-stride and her hands went to her hips. “What the hell is he supposed to be?”
None of this fazed Nick Donovan. No one was more comfortable inside his skin—not to mention inside his supervillain drag—than Nick. “I’m The Conundrum.”
Lisa finally found her voice. “You certainly are.”
Farraday shook his head. “I hope things are coming along here, because I’ve had a very bad morning.”
Lisa couldn’t take her eyes off Nick, but managed to answer him. “Yes, we’ve been a model of efficiency.” Her hand pointed at nothing specific toward the rear. “Got the computers stacked and everything that was in Wunder’s work area has been boxed up for the trash. We’re ready to go.”
Hearing a rustling noise, Farraday glanced behind him just long enough to see Nick’s cape whip through the air as he again practiced karate kicks. He tried to will himself to ignore it and was almost successful.
“Okay, then let’s get it in the truck and get outta here.” He looked around. “Ain’t Peebles supposed to be here?”
“Little boy’s room,” said Mary Beth, who—like Lisa—couldn’t take her eyes off The Conundrum.
When Austin Peebles emerged from the bathroom at the rear of the office a few minutes later he didn’t seem to even notice Nick’s supervillain attire. He finished wiping his hands with a paper towel and sized up the garbage truck parked in front of the building.
“That truck’s illegally parked.”
“When did you start to mature?” asked Lisa, not caring if she sounded too sarcastic.
Mary Beth managed to take her eyes off Nick long enough to focus them on Peebles. “That’s our truck.”
“Ours?” Peebles thought about that, then finally got it. “That’s how you’re carting everything away?”
“That’s right,” said Farraday.
“And when it’s gone?”
“It’s gone, Peebles. And it ain’t never coming back.”
Austin smiled. “That’s awesome.” He looked to the women for further guidance. “So will you be needing me for anything else?”
“You’re free to go,” said Lisa, with a tone indicating he could leave immediately. “Expect a phone call in forty-five minutes or so when your campaign staff discovers the burglary.”
He was growing giddy. “I’m already looking forward to that.”
Mary Beth put a hand on his bicep. “Do you have to run off already? There’s one more part of the job we’ll be pulling.” She tucked her head a little closer. “Maybe you’d like to come along.”
Austin smiled and touched her hair. “That’s tempting, kitten, but I’d better make myself scarce. Especially since the shit’s about to hit the fan.”
“Exactly,” Lisa added icily. “Also, since you’re stroking my girlfriend’s hair, which could cause the shit to hit the fan a lot sooner than you’re expecting.”
Mary Beth pouted. “I didn’t say I wanted to sleep with him. I just enjoy his company.”
Austin fluttered his lashes. “I enjoy your company, too, Mary Beth. Maybe when all of this craziness is over—and before I have to be a congressman and do all that responsible stuff—we can get together and hang out.”
An involuntary shudder ran down her back. “That’d be fun.”
Lisa’s gravel-voiced grumble interrupted them. “Oh, for crying out loud…”
Farraday and Nick loaded the back of the garbage truck with computers and the box of everything that had belonged to Kevin Wunder. Austin took a long look around the campaign headquarters. He felt relief; it seemed as if this nightmare was finally coming to an end.
Chrissy Alton arrived with Wunder’s laptop bag and June’s laptop and phone, all of which promptly went into the back of the truck. And with those final items, everything they intended to steal to that point had been stolen. If they didn’t know there was one more job ahead of them, it would have been time for a celebration.
But there was that last bit of business that still needed to be addressed. It was going to be a tough job, but they were feeling confident.
Inside the now-emptier campaign headquarters, the gang—and Austin, their official mascot—turned at the sound of a loud groan from the street outside. It was the truck’s compacter. Farraday stood on the curb smiling at the grinding noise a dozen computers made as they were pulverized.
Austin smiled, too. Or at least he did until he realized that The Conundrum had his eyes locked on him.
“Uh…can I help you?”
“Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to stare. It’s just that you look younger in person than in your cock shot.”
Most men would have been repelled by that statement, but Austin Peebles was not most men. He knew how to accept a compliment.
“Thank you.” It finally occurred to him to ask about the costume. “So what’s the deal with the getup?”
“It’s my supervillain look. I call myself The Conundrum.” Nick realized that sounded silly and figured he’d better explain. “Just so you don’t get the wrong impression, I don’t walk around the city dressed as The Conundrum all the time.”
“Of course you don’t…”
“I have a bunch of other costumes at home, too.”
“Oh.” Austin thought about that. “So…do you always wear a costume?”
That thought made Nick laugh. “Hell, no. A costume is only useful when you need to protect your identity. So I have normal clothes for the times I’m not fighting crimes—or committing crimes—and I have the costumes for special occasions. Like today!”
Austin touched his shoulder. “That’s reassuring. You make me feel just a little bit safer.”
A few yards away, Mary Beth turned to Lisa. “You see the way that freak Nick Donovan is flirting with Austin? It’s disgusting.”
Lisa didn’t bother responding.
The grinding noise outside stopped, and Farraday walked back inside. “Okay, time for the last job. I’m gonna take the truck over to that place on Second Avenue now and…”
All their phones vibrated at the same time.
“No you’re not.” Lisa had been the fastest among them to retrieve the text message. “Lambert says it’s too late.” Farraday reached for his own phone to confirm.
“So…wait a sec, here.” Austin Peebles wasn
’t the type of man who was concerned about much, but this turn of events concerned him a great deal. “If you don’t get into my mother-in-law’s office and steal Kevin’s computer, what’s to stop him from sending that picture to June Forteene again and putting us back in this mess?”
“Us?” growled Farraday.
“Well…okay, just me.”
“Calm down.” Lisa was reading the most recent text message from Tramway Park. “We’re still going to pull the job. It’s just too late for us to get there before her staff shows up for work this morning, meaning plans have changed. We need to regroup and figure out a new scheme.”
Farraday looked at Nick. “That gives you time to go home and change clothes.”
“Do I have to?”
“I say you do. And put on some underwear while you’re at it.”
The others found their eyes focusing on Nick’s tights.
Lisa’s phone vibrated again, drawing her attention back to more important things. “Grant wants us to meet up at the Roosevelt Island Tramway Park as soon as we can get there. And then we’re gonna figure out what to do.”
Farraday shook his head. “No can do. I know it’s just a garbage truck, and no one’s probably looking for it, but it isn’t a smart thing to spend all day driving around in a hot vehicle full of stolen computers and cell phones. I got a place to dump it in Jersey where no one’s gonna trace it back to us or Peebles. Leaving it out on the street for a few hours while Lambert figures out a new plan is a very bad idea.”
She texted back, and the reply came almost immediately.
“Okay, Farraday, get the truck out of here. And you”—she pointed at Nick—“get home and put on real clothes. And underwear.”
“Grant texted that?”
“No, I’m telling you!” Nick nodded; he didn’t want to mess with her. “Meet us at the Tram as soon as you’re properly dressed.”