Vanessa!
The thought of her filled the Kingpin with new reserves of strength he had not known were within him. He could not let Spider-Man defeat him, if only for her sake!
Spider-Man had not expected the master criminal to recover so swiftly; thus, he was unprepared when the Kingpin threw all of his awesome weight into a final, desperate lunge. He could not get out of the way in time, and when the quarter-ton of enraged criminal landed fully on him, he could only roll with the man’s bulk and hope he would not be crushed beneath it.
The Kingpin’s sledgehammer-like fist thudded against the side of Spidey’s head as the two men went down in a churning pile of arms and legs. The Web-slinger was pinned down to the floor by the Kingpin as his hands sought a hold around Spider-Man’s throat.
“Yes”—the Kingpin breathed heavily—“it would have been the perfect operation . . . a fitting finale for the finest criminal career of all time! I would have had over twenty million dollars with which to start our life anew, and the true beauty of it all was my comrades in crime would never have pursued me to exact their revenge for my transgression!”
His hands found purchase around Spider-Man’s throat and he began to squeeze, his piggish eyes shining. “They would have been too preoccupied fighting one another for control of my abandoned territory to concern themselves with me for many months, and by that time, Vanessa and I would have disappeared, seemingly off the face of the earth!”
Spider-Man clawed desperately at the Kingpin’s hands as the very breath was slowly wrung from his neck. Gotta do . . . something . . . real fast or I-I’m a . . . a dead man!
“But you, insect—you came along and ruined this one last chance I had for happiness. I risked all for this . . . even lied to my wife to attain my goal. Lied to Vanessa . . . and now even that deplorable act will have been in vain.”
Black spots floated before Spider-Man’s eyes as he felt consciousness slowly slipping away from him. It would all be over in another moment, unless . . .
Spider-Man wiggled his arms out from beneath the Kingpin, every move sending fresh waves of pain slicing through his wounded shoulder. At . . . at least with t-the pain I . . . I know I’m still alive! Gathering the last bits of strength in his tortured body, the Web-slinger clapped his hands as hard as he could over the Kingpin’s ears.
The fat man gasped in pain, relinquishing his hold just long enough to allow Spidey to breathe again. Quickly, he gathered air in his aching lungs even as his right fist connected solidly with the Kingpin’s jaw. Spider-Man pushed the Kingpin from him, sending the criminal boss crashing on his back to the floor, then leaped onto his enormous stomach.
“Tables are turned now, fatso,” he croaked angrily, sending blow after blow into the dazed man’s face. The Kingpin struggled, but the events of the day had taken a horrible toll on his awesome strength, and now he had none left with which to defend himself from Spider-Man’s savage attack.
“Stop it, Spider-Man! Please, you’ll kill him!”
The pleading female voice cut through the red haze of anger that filled Spider-Man’s vision and thoughts, bringing him back to reality. He gazed down at the Kingpin’s bloated, bleeding face and the ugly black and purple bruises that were already beginning to form there as a result of his countless blows. He hadn’t known what he was doing.
“Spider-Man!”
He turned to face the speaker as he rose, his arms hanging like lead weights at his side. God, I’m tired.
“It’s all right, Vanessa” he said softly to the woman by the door. “He’s not dead.”
Vanessa squeezed her eyes shut to try and stop the tears that she knew were coming. “Thank God,” she whispered. “Thank God.”
Spider-Man propped himself up against the wall, his right hand massaging his throbbing shoulder. It was all over now. Soon he would be able to get all the rest he wanted.
In the distance, he heard the whine of approaching sirens.
Twenty-Four
It was a weary Spider-Man who replaced the empty cartridges of web-fluid at his wrists with fresh ones from his belt as he stood over the immobile form of the Kingpin. Vanessa knelt beside her unconscious husband, cradling his head in her lap. Tears flowed down her cheeks as she gently stroked his bald pate, but she made no sound.
Spidey kneeled down on one knee beside the big man and lifted his limp arms.
“What are you doing?”
“Making sure he doesn’t split before the cops get here. I don’t think it’d be a good idea if they found me here.”
“That will not be necessary, Spider-Man,” she said, her voice firm despite her tears. “My husband will not be going anywhere.”
He looked into her sad eyes and nodded slowly as he stood.
“Sure.”
The Kingpin moaned softly as he slowly returned to consciousness. The sirens were drawing closer.
“What will happen to him?” she asked.
Spider-Man shrugged. “Prison, I suppose, but that shouldn’t be too hard on a man like the Kingpin. He’s a big man to the other prisoners. What about you, Vanessa? Will you be . . . ?”
“Yes,” she said quickly. The Kingpin’s head stirred in her lap and his eyelids began to flutter open. “I shall be all right.” Vanessa looked down at her husband’s face, then back at Spider-Man. “Please leave us now. There is much I must say to my husband before . . .”
The Web-slinger stepped to the window and pulled it open. “Yeah, I can dig it.” He placed a foot on the sill, then stopped, turning to face the tall, handsome woman. “I meant what I said at the hospital the other day, Vanessa. You’re one hell of a woman.”
Then he leaped out the window and vanished from sight.
Seconds later, the Kingpin’s eyes opened and he looked up into the anxious face of his wife, speaking her name softly through cracked lips.
“I am here, husband.”
“I am so sorry, my love. I have failed you.”
“It did not have to be so,” she whispered, gently stroking his bruised cheek.
“No, it did not. But Silvermane and Spider-Man . . .”
“They are not the ones who must bear the guilt, husband. They are not the ones who lied to me.”
The fat man sat up, a pained expression on his battered face. “You know?” he whispered.
“I know.” She nodded sadly. “I found out you were leading an attack on this place and I followed you, husband. I heard what you told Spider-Man.”
“I did it for you, Vanessa. I did it so that we would have the chance to begin our lives all over again.” He shook his head. “We could not do that without money.”
“You fool,” she cried. “Is that the only reason you think I have stood by your side all these years? For money?”
“No, my love. No! But how could I ask you to leave all the wealth we had accumulated here for a life of poverty, obscurity, in some remote corner of the world?”
“Oh, husband, husband,” Vanessa laughed bitterly, “for a man who professes to be so wise, there are so many things that you are ignorant about.” The woman rose to her feet. “I would have stood by you if we had nothing. The wealth has never mattered to me, not as long as I had your love.”
“Always,” he whispered.
“But it is over, nevertheless, husband.”
The Kingpin rose unsteadily and grasped his wife by the shoulders. “W-what are you saying, Vanessa?”
“I am saying that our life together has come to an end.” She pulled free of his grasp and walked to the window. She could see the first police car, its red light flashing, screeching to a halt in front of the house. She watched as three officers, guns in their hands, jumped from the car. “I have pleaded with you for years to forsake this loathsome career, but time and time again you have returned to it, each time your excuses growing less and less convincing.
“But it was not until today that I realized you could never give up the power and the wealth that come with being the Kingpin of crime.
It has become a part of you, husband, and it is that part of your soul that I can no longer live with.”
“Vanessa, I . . .” he started to say, his deep voice cracking.
Vanessa turned her tear-streaked face to him. “Please do not say anything, husband. There is nothing that can make any difference.”
She walked to the door, head held high, not looking back at the man she had spent her life with, the man she loved perhaps more than that life itself. She could not bear to see him.
“Vanessa.”
She stopped by the door. “Yes ?”
“I love you, Vanessa. I shall always love you, my darling,” the man whispered, his head bowed.
“And I you, my love.”
She ran from the room and out of his life.
Forever.
And nothing else mattered very much after that.
Twenty-Five
It was a greatly invigorated Peter Parker who awoke the next day after almost twenty-four straight hours of beautiful, uninterrupted sleep. He stood under a hot shower for a long time, letting the hot water wash away the last ache from his body, then put on his bathrobe and a sling for his still painful shoulder and sat down with a cup of coffee to catch the evening news on WNYC-T.V.
The television screen lit up, showing video-taped highlights from last night’s police raid on Silvermane’s Westchester mansion. Cops were loading the two dozen hired guns from both mobs into separate paddy wagons.
“. . . arrested the members of the city’s infamous Kingpin and Silvermane gangs. Police believe that both criminal organizations have been completely wiped out, thanks to these arrests.”
Peter smiled and sipped his coffee. Not bad for a day’s work, Spidey.
The scene on the T.V. screen changed, showing three cops leading a handcuffed Kingpin to a waiting patrol car. Reporters were shoving microphones into the big man’s face, shouting questions at him, but the Kingpin said nothing, did not even take his hooded eyes from the ground under his feet as he docilely allowed the police to lead him to the car. “Also arrested,” the voice-over commentary continued, “was the so-called Kingpin himself, leader of one of the routed gangs. Westchester County D.A. Sidney Fredericks said he was seeking charges of murder in the first degree against the crime boss for the slaying of his rival, Silvermane.”
The tape shifted again to Silvermane’s study, where two ambulance attendants were carrying a stretcher covered by a white sheet from the entrance to the tunnel. “Silvermane was reportedly slain by the Kingpin in a showdown in the former’s hidden arsenal.”
Ian Forester and a woman, who Peter assumed was the man’s wife, stood before the blazing lights of a press conference with their daughter between them. Forester was saying, “. . . of course, I am withdrawing from the mayoral primary now that my daughter has been safely returned to me.” The veteran newsman looked into the televison camera, his expression tired but smiling. “And I’d like to take this opportunity to thank the man responsible for saving her from the Kingpin’s clutches, ladies and gentlemen. Spider-Man, if you’re listening, I’d like you to know you have my family’s deepest gratitude for what you’ve done for us. Thank you, and God bless you.”
The scene shifted back to the studio and anchorman Ned Armitage. “Manhattan District Attorney Lottie Blumenfeld said her office was investigating the possibility of bringing charges of kidnapping and extortion, as well as the Westchester charge of murder, against the captured Kingpin.”
Peter Parker smiled in satisfaction and reached for the knob to shut off his set when a picture of J. Jonah Jameson flashed on the chromo-key behind Armitage. “And in a somewhat related story, another candidate in the upcoming mayoral primary was disqualified today by the Board of Elections when it was discovered there were ‘irregularities in his petitions to be placed on the ballot.’ Sources at the Board say many of the signatures filed by the Daily Bugle’s editor and publisher were questionable, perhaps fraudulent.
“Jameson issued a statement saying, quote: ‘You can’t get good help these days,’ unquote. Nobody’s quite sure what the former candidate meant by that.”
Peter howled with laughter as he shut off the television. Jameson, you old crow!
There was a knock at his door and, still laughing, he opened it to find Cindy Sayers standing there, looking contrite. “Cindy!”
“Hello, Peter,” she said softly. “May I come in?”
He held open the door. “Sure,” he said. “Come in.” Oh, boy! I’ve been so wrapped up in this Kingpin/Silvermane mess that I completely forgot about the Cindy Sayers/J.J. Jameson mess!
“Er . . . can I get you some coffee, Cindy?”
She shook her head, unable to look into his face. “No. No thanks, Peter. I . . . I just came to explain a few things to you before I said good-bye.”
He stared at her. “What!?”
“I’ve been lying to you, Peter. I think once I tell you the truth, you’re going to want me to leave you alone. For good.”
“Lying? Cindy, what’re you . . . ?”
“I’m not Jameson’s niece, Peter!” she blurted out.
“I know that.”
“You know?”
He nodded. “Yeah. Robbie Robertson told me Jolly Jonah was an only child, ipso facto, he couldn’t have a niece.”
“Right.”
“Then if you’re not Jameson’s niece, why was he so hot to have you work with me?”
“Because,” she said, staring at the floor, a miserable look on her pretty face, “because I’m a private detective, Peter.”
Peter stiffened, staring in amazement at her. A detective!? Then Jameson does suspect I’m Spider-Man . . . “That’s a pretty low trick, lady,” he said angrily. “What the hell does Jameson expect to find out by having me tailed by a detective?”
“I don’t blame you for being angry, Pete.”
“Damned right! Come on, I’m waiting for an explanation!”
Cindy bit her lip. “It’s got to do with Spider-Man, Peter.”
Steady, boy!
“Jameson hired me to tag around with you and find out how you manage to get all those exclusive pictures of Spider-Man in action.”
You’re kidding?
“You’re kidding,” he said incredulously.
She shook her head miserably. “I wish I were, Peter.”
“But why, for cryin’ out loud? Jameson gets all the shots of Spidey he can use from me. What’d he think, I was going to work for another newspaper or something?”
Cindy shrugged. “I guess it’s no secret Jameson doesn’t like you very much, Peter. He said he could get rid of you if he knew how you got your pictures and assign Spider-Man to one of his staff photographers. They work a lot cheaper than you do, I guess.”
“That old buzzard. It’d serve him right if I did go over to another paper . . .” He stopped and looked at her, puzzled. “Hey, how come you’re telling me all this? Doesn’t that kind of blow your cover, as I believe they call it in the private-eye game?”
“It doesn’t matter anymore,” Cindy said as she put her hand on the doorknob to leave. “I told Jameson this morning that I quit. I-I coudn’t bring myself to do this to you anymore, Peter.” She opened the door as her eyes filled with tears. “But before I walked out of your life forever, I had to come and explain, apologize for what I did. Good-bye, Peter.” She ran from his apartment, slamming the door behind her.
Peter stared at the blank door for several moments after she was gone. Damn her and damn Jameson! He brought his fist down on the top of a metal bookcase, smashing his hand-through the thin metal. How could she do this to me, after all we meant to each other!? First I lose Mary Jane, then Betty, and now Cindy! But the others, they never betrayed me like Cindy did! They never took money to be my girl, never lied to me like this!
He went to the window and stared out into the street below. He saw Cindy run from the building and stop, looking both ways up and down the street. Then she sat down on the front stoop and bu
ried her face in her hands. The anger on Peter’s face crumpled as he watched her hunched shoulders heave with her sobs. Oh, Lord! Cindy!
Peter turned and ran from his apartment, leaping down the length of the stairs in a single jump. He raced through the lobby and yanked open the vestibule door.
“Cindy!”
The girl turned, tears streaming down her cheeks. She looked into Peter’s face and saw his smile as he sat on the stoop next to her.
“I’m sorry, Cindy,” he said softly, touching her hair gently with his fingers.
She sniffed. “Why? I’m the one who should be sorry.”
“I’m sorry you’re crying.”
“I’m not.”
“Hey, come on, pretty lady! So you made a teensy little mistake. Big deal! Nobody’s perfect, you know!” He put his arm around her shoulders and drew her close to him, kissing her salty lips gently as he stroked her shoulder. “Not even me. In fact, the only thing I’ve done right all day is realizing that I love you, lady.”
A smile broke slowly through her tears. “You . . . ?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Oh, Peter!”
Cindy Sayers threw her arms around Peter Parker’s neck and hugged him as she would never be able to hug him again. “I love you, too,” she whispered into his ear. “What do you think of that?”
Peter smiled. “I think, Louie, that this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”
Marvel Novel Series 08 - The Amazing Spider-Man - Crime Campaign Page 15