The Troubleshooter: New Haven Blues

by Bard Constantine

  "You called this meeting, Troubleshooter. What do you have for me?"

  I holstered the Broad and nodded across the way. "See the dive across the street? Check out the sign."

  She squinted. "The Hideout. You're not saying—?"

  "Exactly. Guess Tommy has a dramatic sense of irony. I looked it up on the way. Seems it’s an old theater that was bought out a few years back. You probably guessed who the buyer was. Who would ever think ol' Tommy would be lying dormy in a place called The Hideout? It's genius, really."

  "I'm not going to even ask you how you came by this information. I hope you're right, Mick. Because my girls and I are going in force, and I'd hate to crash in on some old prudes playing rummy."

  "Lady, when I'm right, I'm right. All we need to do now is figure out how we're gonna get in without raising the alarm. I spied only one goon at the door, but I'm guessing Tommy has got the place tricked out and swarming with chopper squads inside."

  “Don’t worry about the alarm system.”

  “Why not?”

  She smiled. “Because I own the alarm company. As for how to get in…” She gestured to Kelly, who produced a large grappling hook and compression gun. "Rooftop to rooftop. We’ll start from the top and work our way down. Hope you don't mind a little zip line action."

  "In the rain across some fishing line. Lemme know how that goes.” I nodded to my crew. “Let's go, gents.”

  "What are you going to do?" Selene asked.

  "The sane thing. We're gonna go right through the front door. Start from the bottom and work our way up."

  She pursed her rosebud lips. "Let me know how that goes. Then again, we can use the distraction of you getting killed to ease our way in."

  "Just say you love me and get it over with.” I hesitated, then took hold of her arm before she turned.

  “Listen, once we’re inside the brass is gonna be right on our heels. When they barge in making targets outta themselves, you should be able to nab the leg in the chaos.”

  “Interesting.” Her jade peepers glimmered. “And you know this because…?”

  “I know things, darling. Leave it at that. Just be ready when it all hits the fan.”

  Graves might have warned me, but I’m not too good at listening. If he thought I’d jump through hoops for him and his dish of a detective, he’d think better of it soon.

  Plain and simple: I happened to like Selene, psychotic Gutter Girls and all. I didn’t like Graves. At all.

  He could go to hell. Next time I saw him, I’d probably send him there.

  A few minutes later I crossed the street with Poddar. The Cowboy was already in place, walking his doggy. I noticed sleek black floaters dropping down on the surrounding rooftops. Every one of them was loaded with badass dames with attitudes. Selene wasn't taking any chances.

  The Gutter Girls had arrived in force.

  There was a casually dressed chump at the front door of the Hideout, lounging like a bum with nothing to do. The alert way he looked at us and the way he slid his hand behind him said otherwise.

  "Something I can help you mugs with?”

  Poddar didn't even slow down. As the goon cursed and grabbed the scattergun behind him, Poddar leaped forward and struck him in the throat and stomach. As he continued to batter the poor rube senseless, I introduced the door to the heel of my size elevens.

  The chopper squad inside looked up, eyes widening. Too bad for them. The Mean Ol' Broad was in the mood for violence, and I let her have her way. Her angry roar filled the hallway and decorated those cheap suits with lead buttons.

  Rob and Stinker burst in as I dropped down to reload. The Cowboy’s .45s blazed the goons who ran down the stairs toting Thompsons. Those unlucky enough not to be dead were treated to Stinker’s bad side.

  Poddar sprinted past, pausing only to pick up a Thompson from a dead suit before he raced upstairs.

  "Dammit Poddar, wait for us."

  "C'mon.” Rob grinned. "Can't let the Prince have all the fun."

  We followed the sounds of Poddar’s yells and maniacal shooting. I almost tripped twice on the stiffs he left in his wake. Looked like he wasn't against using a heater after all.

  I kinda liked that.

  Upstairs opened up to a hallway which led to an old coffee house. I almost got my head plugged by the goons holed up there, making a desperate stand against Poddar the Insane Prince. Just when I thought of waking up the Magic Dragon, the windows crashed in behind the goons. As the gun-toting Gutter Girls hosed them down, I took time to get my bearings. I figured Tommy would be in the main auditorium if he were anywhere.

  He always did like an audience.

  I put the Broad back in her slip and gestured to Rob and Poddar "Put your iron away, boys."

  They looked at me like I'd just farted a troll.

  "Are you crazy?"

  "Like a fox. You gotta learn to listen to the ol' Troubleshooter. 'Specially if you wanna keep on living. Now put 'em away."

  They reluctantly obeyed while I slowly opened the theater doors and strode inside real casual-like. The place was almost pitch black, but I managed not to trip over my own flippers.

  About halfway down, the lights snapped on.

  The upper balcony was packed with chopper squads pointing heat at us. They stood still as statues, but the air hummed with their anticipation to fill us with daylight.

  "I should have known.” A spotlight clicked on the stage where Tommy Tsunami stood with his hands clasped behind his back. Pretty dramatic, even for a gangster.

  "Who else would pull off a stunt like this? You still owe me for the Gaiden, Mick. I loved that joint."

  "Put it on my tab, Tommy. And the way I hear it, you're in much larger debt than I am."

  "Really? To whom?"

  I couldn't have planned it better if I tried. At that exact moment, Selene and her Gutter Girl trio slid down from the rafters. She was a leather-clad blur who had her Bushido sword at Tommy's throat almost as quickly as he aimed a gold-plated Beretta at her head.

  "To me." Her eyes blazed.

  The doors banged open. Gutter Girls of all sorts spread through the aisles, yelling at the top of their pretty lungs. The goons on the balcony had to split their attention between the ladies and us. The tension was so thick I could taste it.

  It tasted like cotton candy.

  I sat down in one of the cushy theater chairs and lit a gasper. “You know, I never cared much for the theater. But now I’m starting to like it a lot better.” I blew a trail of smoke toward the ceiling.

  “Now I may be wrong here, but it seems like we can all go out with a bigger bang than the Cataclysm, or talk like the sensible adults we aren’t. Like maybe about a missing leg. And a missing dame who goes by the name of Kilby. Ball’s in your court, Tommy boy.”

  His eyes slowly slid toward me, which wasn’t all that easy to do with a razor-edged blade at his throat that could core his Adam’s apple if he swallowed.

  “I tried to keep you out of this. All of you. You have no idea what’s going on here. You were better off chasing ghosts in the West Docks.”

  “What the hell does that have to do with my leg?” Selene’s pearly whites were clenched tightly. “You better pray it’s not damaged, or you’ll be missing a few members as well. Starting with the one you cherish the most.”

  Tommy followed her downward glance and smiled. He had guts, I had to admit.

  “The leg is undamaged. And I’m not the one who ordered the theft in the first place. I only intercepted it. It was my full intention to return it to you completely intact.”

  “But only after you found out what the secret behind it was, right?” I nodded. “I get it. You’re both Gestalt, so there’s rules and codes of conduct and all. But what I can’t figure out what kidnapping Ms. Kilby had to do with this. What’s the angle in that?”

  “Maybe you’d better ask her yourself. Since I never kidnapped her in the first place.”

  The door by the stage opened. The g
asper fell from my mouth.

  Ms. Kilby walked in, safe and unharmed.

  “Donna?” Poddar looked positively stunned. I would have found it hilarious were it not for the other dame who walked in with Ms. Kilby. One I instantly recognized.

  “Angel?”

  Unlike Poddar and me, Ms. Kilby was as unruffled as ever. “I can explain.”

  I had to smile. “Maybe you should. Let’s call a truce for a minute, guys and gals. Something tells me we’re all after the same thing.”

  Chapter 15: The Tattooed Leg

  "For the first time I think the Troubleshooter actually has a decent idea.” Tommy Tsunami still aimed his solid gold Beretta right between Selene’s eyes while her Gutter Girls faced off against his goons. She still played barber with her blade against his throat. Poddar still stared in shock at Ms. Kilby, the dame he'd been fretting over for the last twenty-four hours.

  Me? I couldn’t help laughing. Because it was all so damn hysterical.

  "Take your time, ladies and gents. It's not like there's a rogue synoid with mental pain projection who’s running around trying to find a leg and kill say, about a few thousand people to get his hands on some Grim War. Whatever that means."

  “It’s the Grimoire, you idiot.” Tommy looked pretty pissed. A gangster and a grammar Nazi. Who would have known?

  Selene glowered, but slowly took the blade from Tommy's throat. He kept his smile as he lowered his heat. The tension faded just a notch from the rest of the family, which was good because it was hard to breathe with everyone locked in kill mode.

  Tommy shrugged. "Very well. I won't even hold it against you that you broke in and killed a few of my boys. I understand the viewpoint you had of me was somewhat slanted."

  "Would that be the theft of a particular leg viewpoint, or the kidnapping of a particular dame viewpoint, Tommy? I get a little confused sometimes."

  He looked at Ms. Kilby. She cleared her throat.

  “Mr. Tsunami and I have come to an arrangement.”

  "What?"

  She remained unruffled. "I was waiting for Selene at one of our meeting places—a housing complex in the West Docks. Tommy showed up before Selene did. He warned me the New Man was on my trail. We left just before the synoid showed up. I saw the place explode behind us. It was…terrible.”

  Her voice choked a bit at the end, but I wasn’t fooled. We were in a theater, after all. Everyone had a part to play. I knew Kilby was about as cold as Selene was.

  She continued. “I’m only alive because of Mr. Tsunami’s intervention. Seeing as how we had a common enemy, we decided to put aside our differences and combine our individual talents. We’ve been here trying to put the pieces together."

  I tapped my fingers together. "Really? How convenient. How do we know ol' Tommy didn't send the New Man after you in the first place?"

  Tommy’s expression darkened. "Because if you took the time to actually think instead of talk, you'd figure out if I had access to the New Man then I would have had him rub you out at the Gaiden. Or simply wait for him to deliver the Grimoire himself. Believe me, the New Man is no friend of mine. He's a loose cannon. He controls an army of brainwashed idiots who he’s convinced are all trapped in this world. The only way to escape it lies in the pages of the Grimoire, an ancient book of supposed sorcery which will free the minds of the populace. By killing them, of course. A load of nonsense."

  Actually, it was a lot closer to the truth than it sounded. But I wasn’t about to spill my guts, especially since I still had no idea who was behind the whole operation. "And the location is on the leg?"

  He looked at Selene, whose intense glare would be frightening if it were directed at me. Tommy almost kept his face calm.

  "Yes. I knew exactly when La Fox arrived in New Haven, and soon found out what she was after. After that it was only a matter of taking time to convince her that her best bet was to deal with me instead of the New Man.” His teeth flashed.

  Oh, yeah. Having been on the receiving end of Tommy’s convincing, I almost felt sorry for that Fox dame.

  “Where is she now?” Selene’s glower was so intense I almost felt sorry for La Fox again. If Selene got her hands on her, she’d probably be a dead fox real soon.

  Tommy didn’t seem to notice. “Oh, I don’t think you can find her. Especially after how well I paid her to disappear. Her part in this is finished. She did her job, and quite well I must say.”

  He smiled in a rather coy manner despite the heat of Selene’s stare. “I know it’s been a bit inconvenient, but you know the limb can be reattached with barely a scar for your trouble. You should thank me. Had I not intervened, you’d still be missing your leg, only with no idea who did the snatch. You might say I was looking out for you. After all, we are connected by business and other associations. Though I understand if you're not feeling particularly grateful."

  Selene's hand was still on the pommel of her sword, and she looked ready to draw it again. "And why didn't you just come to me with this information? I woke up in a tub of ice, you bastard!"

  I blew a lazy trail of smoke upward. "Because he knew you'd never give him what he wanted. The location of the Grimoire.” I winked at Tommy. “He wants to know if it exists, and if it really does have any real power. Because if it does, he wants to get his mitts on it first."

  "Enough." Selene’s chin rose imperiously. "I want my leg back. Right now."

  Tommy smiled. "Follow me."

  We trailed him through the back door, leaving the Girls and goons to enjoy each other’s company. Of course Selene kept her personal trio with her, swaggering in their curve-hugging leather. Poddar and Dawn spoke urgently in low tones just in front of me. I stepped ahead just in case it turned into a lover's spat. As we walked down a brightly lit hallway, I caught up to Angel and took her by the arm.

  "I still don't see what you have to do with any of this. Did Tommy threaten you because of me? Say the word and I'll get you outta here."

  Her violet eyes looked up pityingly. "Is that what you think? You can be a sweet man when you want to. Baby, I work for Tommy. Do you really think I could afford to live in that neighborhood on a secretary’s salary? Please."

  "You mean you—?"

  "She was keeping an eye on you for me.” Tommy barely turned his head. "You’re a most unique individual, Troubleshooter. I knew it was only a matter of time before you were back in the game, no matter what happened to your memory. I keep track of everything that goes down in New Haven. Why wouldn't you think I'd keep track of you?"

  I looked at Angel. My Angel. "So. You just let ol' Tommy pimp you out, that it?"

  I never figured a petite dame could slap so hard. The impact spun my head around so far back I clearly saw the smirk on Rob's face before I reeled it in again.

  The Gutter Girls laughed while I rubbed my cheek. "Guess I deserved that."

  Her gorgeous eyes were furious. "That and more. I thought we had something, but I learn quick. I was just a tool you used when you wanted and tossed back in the box when you were done. So when Tommy offered money to keep tabs on you, yeah –I took it. It's like I told you: a girl can't wait forever."

  "I guess she can't.” I felt like my heart should have broken or something, but all I wanted was a stiff drink and some ice.

  For my jaw.

  We walked into a large basement. It had been recently renovated with the kind of high tech lab equipment I couldn’t even spell. In the center was a large table. On the table was a glass case.

  Inside of the case was the leg.

  I took a good look at what all the fuss was about. It was slender, shapely, and looked completely undamaged, as Tommy had promised. Kinda creepy with no body attached and all, but whole and unharmed. It was displayed so the severed part didn’t show, which was awful nice of Tommy once I thought about it.

  A series of intricately detailed tattoos were etched from the top of the thigh all the way to the ankle. The depictions were of wolves, eagles, and American Indians. Sel
ene’s rosebud lips parted as she placed a hand on the glass.

  I whistled. "Really nice ink.”

  She glowered.

  I raised my hands defensively. “No, I mean it. You don’t find detail like this too often. But aside from that—what the hell do they have to do with finding the Grimoire?"

  "That's the million dib question." The voice was distinctly familiar. "And one we were unable to answer. Until we looked closer. Much closer.”

  Frankie Newman turned from one of the consoles, wearing a labcoat and eyeglasses. His hair was slickly laid, and he looked completely in his element. Just like he had in hobo rags. He spoke in a soft, sinister stepfather kind of voice. "Hello, Troubleshooter. I'm willing to bet this was the last place you'd expect to see me."

  Tommy turned. "I recruited Mr. Newman when my analysts were stumped by the meaning in the tattoos. Since the quality of the mystery was of a highly secretive nature…"

  I nodded. "Why not ask someone who specializes in the nature of secrets. As the resident information harvester and someone who worked for the Savant, Frankie fits the bill, all right.”

  Frankie’s eyelid twitched. “That’s an interesting allegation.”

  “Oh, I’m able to connect a few dots now and then, Frankie.”

  It was true. My sluggish mind had actually kicked into overdrive, in fact. Not particularly a good thing, because I hate thinking. Pieces were falling into place, and I didn’t like the half-completed picture they formed.

  “Dr. Faraday had to have someone he personally groomed to understand his unique genius. Someone he at least halfway trusted. How many silver pieces did you get for turning on him, Frankie?”

  “I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Course you don’t. Well, Frankie boy? Find anything useful?"

  Newman gave me a wary glance. "As a matter of fact, I did. After scanning the entire leg, I was able to examine each tattoo separately. And came up with nothing."

  "What? I thought you just said—"

  "Nothing…at first. Undaunted, I delved deeper. And found this.” He pointed, and a picjector clicked on. A holographic enlargement of one of the tattoos floated in front of us. It was almost hidden, an eagles’ head between the hands of one of the Indian tats. The image enlarged further until it focused on an eagle’s eye, right beneath the Indian's left hand.