"Nix that idea. The New Man showed up before I could make sense out of what the good doctor was spilling. I personally saw him knock off Dr. Faraday. Rather messily, too. At first I thought the Savant was controlling him. Seems like he's operating on his own."
Hunter paused, digesting the info. "The most convincing puppets are the ones whose strings are hidden. The fact that Dr. Faraday is dead presents a more difficult situation, however.”
I dumped my ammo and replaced it with a fresh clip from the watertight case on my belt. "Yeah, well, first things first. Gotta get our friends outta the jam they’re in, then find a way to stop the New Man. Looks like it’s up to me to save the day."
He pulled a heater from its holster and activated the prep mode. It unfolded and hardened into a replica of the Dragon. “After you.”
I expected the front door to be locked, but it wasn't. I guess I could've come up with a better way of sneaking in, but that just wasn't my style. I eyeballed the joint as we strode down the long hallway. The place was laid out with all kinds of antique statues and ritzy paintings. Just the tile on the floor looked like it cost more loot than I could make in a lifetime or three.
"Come this way, if you please.” A tuxedo clad man gestured from the end of the hall. "Mr. Beck is expecting you."
“Beck? As in the mayor of New Haven—that Mr. Beck?”
“That would be the one. Come along. He doesn’t like to wait.”
I looked at Hunter, who shrugged. I guess it shouldn’t have surprised me the mayor of the town would be waist deep in our little game. You don’t get to be in his position unless you’re pretty good at pulling strings.
We followed the butler down the brightly lit hall, flanked by paintings of stern-looking men and women with secrets in their eyes. The doors of the hall opened to a wide room centered by a glittering chandelier. Rob, Poddar, and Ms. Kilby sat at a gleaming table.
They were drinking tea.
Not exactly what I expected. Hell, even Stinker was gnawing contentedly on a meaty bone. Mayor Beck turned as we entered. The old crust was still wearing the dinner jacket from the banquet hall, and had a merry twinkle in his eye.
"Ah, and this must the last of my guests. Imagine –driving a wheeler into my swimming pool! How am I going to explain that when they come to clean it? Well, no matter. You're here now, so make yourself at home. Sugar with your tea?"
"We break into the place, and you offer us tea? What gives?"
"Earl Grey, in fact. In answer to your question—I know a thing or two about people.” Mr. Beck was one of those rich old coots who appear bemused all the time. Probably because they’re so damn rich. "I can look at them and tell instantly the sort they are. If they're liars. If they're lost. Like you, my friend."
"Not really. I know exactly where I am. I decoded a positioning point to get here.” I took the tea offered by the butler and sipped. I’m more of a java man myself, but it wasn’t half bad.
"Being lost doesn't always refer to direction or location. But I'm sure you already know that. Now, I don't think you'd be parking in my pool unless you felt you were on some mighty important business. So, tell me…what brings you to my home?"
I tipped my fine china like a gentleman. "You're holding a dangerous item a goon with mental powers is currently on his way over to collect. We're here to get that item out of your home so this lovely little pad doesn't end up toasted when the New Man gets here."
His smile faded. "A goon with mental powers, is it? Surely not. A golem directed by my old friend the Savant would not be out of order, however. I was told he went insane. No doubt he hopes to take back what he rightfully sold to me."
"You know about him?"
"Young man, I'm a collector of many ancient artifacts. To do so properly, you must possess knowledge of the items you collect. In this case, the Grimoire. A book of death, secrets and many misinformed rumors I rightfully purchased from Dr. Faraday, who obviously had no idea of its value. Yet it is sealed against tampering unless one has the key. Which I do not, nor does anyone I know.”
He tilted his head, his face suddenly very serious. “Captain Graves informed me of the potential threat, which is why I left the banquet early. So. While I appreciate your efforts to look out for my safety, I'm afraid I can't comply. The Grimoire will be staying here, I'm afraid."
"Guess your information gathering needs an update, then. Because the Savant is dead. His ‘golem’ is the thing that killed him. Now it’s on its way here.”
I sat the china down and nodded to the others. They stood up slowly. "Thanks for the tea. But I don't think you understand your position, Mr. Beck. I'm not asking. I'm just being polite enough to tell you in advance. We're taking the book. It would be best if you showed us where it is, otherwise it's gonna get real unpleasant around here."
A grandfatherly smile crossed Mr. Beck’s face. "Really? And how will you do that? Beat me into submission? Torture me? Kill my butler in front of me, perhaps?”
He chuckled richly. “You are many things, but I know you are no evil man. It's not in you to harm the innocent. And even if you could, my guards would swarm in at a moment’s notice. No, my friend. I'm afraid I must retract my hospitality and ask that you leave. The police are on their way here even now. It would be better for you if you were gone when they arrive."
I looked at the others, who seemed as embarrassed as I was. What a bunch of tough guys we were. Put in our places by one old crust. And we couldn't do a thing about it. Because he was right. We couldn’t just beat some sense into the old codger. I racked my brains, trying to stall for time.
"Ok, Mr. Beck. At least let us try to get you outta here. Trust me, you don't know what you're up against."
"No, I believe it is you who suffers from a lack of knowledge. About yourself, and your immediate circumstances. A shame really, that amnesia thing. I pity you."
“Perhaps I should try.” Hunter slowly stepped forward, his face as blank as his tone.
“Am I supposed to be afraid of your synoid thug?” Beck’s tone was derisive. “You won’t let him harm me and you know it, Troubleshooter.”
Hunter wasn’t amused. “I’m afraid you are mistaken. About many things.”
Beck’s smile faded as he studied Hunter. “What…are you?”
“Less than you know. More than you expect.” Hunter looked ominous as Death with his black suit and pale synthetic flesh. His hand was just a blur as it backhanded Beck across the face. The old man looked as shocked as the rest of us as he hit the floor.
Hunter’s voice was a cold monotone. “You will tell me where the Grimoire is. Better to do so before I damage parts of you that you need.”
The butler stepped forward protectively. “What on earth do you think—?”
His words were cut off by a vicious blow to the chest which sent him sprawling. Hunter never looked away from Mr. Beck.
Beck’s face twisted painfully from his position on the floor. Blood oozed from his split lips, and his white hair was plastered to his brow from a sudden downpour of sweat. “Stop,” he gasped. “You can’t do this!” He looked around frantically. “Guards—where are my guards?”
“Hunter—this isn’t what I want.” My hand slid toward the Mean Ol’ Broad. Synoids don’t feel pain, but I wasn’t about to let him torture the old coot right in front of me. I figured a couple of shots to Hunter’s knees might slow him down. Might.
He flung an upraised palm toward me. “This is beyond you now, Troubleshooter. He will not be harmed if he does not resist.”
“You said you were here to help me. This ain’t it, Hunter.”
“This is exactly it.” His hand seized Beck’s necktie, throttling the old man. “This is exactly what you’d do in this situation. That’s the point.” Beck choked and gagged as Hunter brought his face close. “The pain stops when you start talking. So talk.”
“What the hell is going on?” Rob had his pistols in hand, but looked as bewildered as I felt.
“It�
�s a long story. But it’s about to end right now.” I raised the Broad. “Let him go, Hunter.”
I didn't hear his answer. Because the windows to the side exploded, knocking us sideways from the force. While skidding across the slick tiles, I was struck by a familiar certainty. I'd felt a blast like that very recently.
From those monstrous pistols the New Man carried.
And speak of the devil, he came striding through the flame and smoke like the Lord of Darkness. His black coat fluttered, and his gunmetal eyes gleamed from behind the iron mask. Robed goons swarmed in from behind him like bees who wanted their honey back. They all packed some serious heat.
Guess I knew what happened to Beck’s guards.
"I've come for the Grimoire," the New Man said in his graveyard voice. "The Next Day is upon us. If you surrender it, you can die painlessly. If not, then you can just die."
I pointed the Replacement Killer his direction. "You forgot about the third option."
Gunfire erupted. All I heard was thunder.
Chapter 17: The Grimoire
I've always said if I can't get out of a situation in seven bullets or less, I’m a dead man anyway.
Case in point.
Clouds of slugs and mech rounds hummed as the New Man's goons exchanged fire with me and my crew. Priceless china, crystal ware and chunks of polished marble gave the chaos a touch of class as they were ruined beyond recognition. Fortunately Mayor Beck couldn’t witness the damage because he lay beneath some rubble, out cold.
Me? I'd just emptied the entire clip of 13 mm rockets into the New Man, specifically at his eyes and head. It had worked before.
Things had changed. Just like the first time, they never even reached him. I hate reruns.
"You think to defeat me twice.” He raised the impossibly large pistol as the missiles fell uselessly at his feet. “You are a fool, Troubleshooter.”
A familiar blast rocked the New Man on his heels and sent his pistol flying. It was about time.
"You will not escape so easily this time." Hunter brushed me out of the way as he charged his Dragon for the nano charge. The cylinders hummed as he aimed.
It seemed impossible, but the New Man was even faster; just a blur as he streaked forward and shoved the Dragon toward the ceiling. The blast created a smoldering cavity which opened a really nice view of the night sky. The nanoids continued to eat the ceiling, widening the hole even further. Fortunately their thirty-second life span prevented them from devouring the entire mansion.
The New Man proved himself the superior synoid right about when he kicked Hunter in the gut. I thought I heard something break as Hunter sailed backwards. The drywall cracked when his body struck it, and he dropped to the floor like his circuitry had shorted.
"These crude weapons are a mere annoyance." The New Man looked at the Dragon disdainfully before he snapped it in half, showering sparks. "Little more than toys. And you are a useless abomination. It would have been better if the river swallowed you."
I was glad he was distracted, because it gave me time to switch heaters. I was out of rockets, and pretty sure the Broad was useless against him. But there were a lot of other targets. As if on cue, his Specters decided to focus directly on me. Their aim was pretty bad and their attack style was kamikaze, but there were a lot of the bastards. I had to make an undignified retreat behind some marble pillars to avoid the barrage.
Blue and red lights flashed outside, a sure sign the street sweepers were on the scene. I heard Captain Graves on the horn yapping something about surrendering peacefully. Like that was gonna happen. I appreciated that he showed up in person, though. Saved me the trouble of having to look for him later.
The black-uniformed storm troopers were your standard Government Issue combat androids. They weren’t programmed with personalities, but they seemed taken aback when they kicked the doors in. I don’t know what they made of the situation, but they responded the way they always did on arrival.
They opened fire.
The Specters had to regroup and respond in kind. The body count rose dramatically.
That gave me a little respite, so I dove and rolled over to the marble table Rob and the others had tilted over. Ms. Kilby had ripped her sleeve apart to use as a makeshift tourniquet around a gunshot wound in Poddar's leg.
"Bad luck?"
His face was slicked with sweat. "No, good. He was aiming for my head."
Rob plugged a Specter that Stinker pulled down, then ducked as a slug went through the brim of his Stetson. He yanked it off and looked at the smoking cavity in dismay. "Street sweepers, Specters, and that crazy yahoo from the docks. Anyone you didn’t invite?”
"Yeah. Someone with ruby slippers to heel-click a way outta this mess.” I risked a glance over the table edge. The New Man gazed around as if searching for something, oblivious to the carnage. I figured he was scanning the place for the location of the book. I couldn’t tell if Hunter was ok. Some help he turned out to be.
“Look, I think I gotta get in closer to the New Man. Cover me. Now!"
I ran as they rose and opened fire. The bullets ricocheted off his armor as expected, but at least he seemed to feel them. That let me get close in on his blind side. I leaped in for a close up shot from the Mean Ol’ Broad. The New Man turned my way at that exact moment, raising his gauntleted hand. The device attached to his palm hummed and glowed like an angry furnace.
Time slowed to a crawl.
The Broad roared. The sound swelled as the air became jelly, rippling as the slug simply disintegrated in front of the New Man's hand.
The fun didn't stop there. The Mean Ol’ Broad turned to slag in my hands, dripping to the floor like heated wax.
Then the wave hit me.
I guess red-hot nails punched into your entire body simultaneously might compare to the agony. I slammed against the floor before I realized I’d fallen. A high-pitched whine screeched loud in my ears.
It took a minute to recognize my own screams.
The New Man dismissively dropped his hand, and I collapsed. My bones were sponge, and I felt like I’d been horsewhipped with razor blades. I couldn't get up even if I wanted to.
Which I didn't.
The world was a hazy roar of sounds and blurred movement. As I wriggled like a dying cockroach, I became aware of other people. Selene arrived with a pistol in one hand and a Bushido blade in the other. She sliced into the Specters, followed by her Gutter Girl forces. Tommy Tsunami barged in from another hall, followed by a few surviving goons.
The New Man turned and pointed. The marble table exploded into powder, knocking Poddar, Rob, and Ms. Kilby back like bowling pins. Rob roared wordlessly, his pistols blazing. Specters closed in on him like beetles on a fresh pile of dung.
The New Man withdrew a disk from inside his coat, oblivious to the chaos. He muttered an incantation, and the disk glowed red. He slowly revolved as he pointed it toward the walls.
Arms slid under mine and raised me to a sitting position. A familiar voice spoke in my ear. "A little help would be appreciated. You're not exactly light, you know."
My Angel. Even though it was painful, I smiled. “So you were a mole in Tommy’s organization, that it? Lemme guess –a Gutter Girl affiliate?”
I managed to move my limbs, and Angel half-dragged me to the stairwell. She whipped around and took out at a Specter at point blank range with her cute little pistol. "You better believe it. Like I’d really work for a skel like Tommy. Keep your head down, and maybe you'll live through this."
It didn't look like any of us were gonna live through it. A line of Specters almost laid out Selene, but somehow she flipped over their heads while firing her pistol. She landed near Tommy. He had run outta bullets, but used the butt of his gun like a club. They fought back to back as though they’d done it all their lives.
I saw Christina go down, but Jen and Kelly stepped forward, dicing the robed attackers. They supported Cristina on their shoulders as they desperately fended off more of th
e endless Specters. Goons killed Gutter Girls. Girls killed Specters. Street sweepers tried to smoke everyone. I closed my eyes. Maybe it was all a bad dream I would just wake from.
Hunter dashed that hope to pieces. "He must be looking for the Grimoire." I hadn’t noticed him approach, but he’s one sneaky synoid. He didn't look any worse for the wear, either. Then again, his kind didn’t have to worry about getting hurt. He continued his helpful observations. "It’s too late to stop him. But we can hit him while he’s vulnerable."
At that point I didn't really care about that musty old book. All I wanted to do was die in peace. Of course, Hunter wasn’t about let that happen. He snapped his fingers under my nose, discharging something which drove ammonia fumes right into my brain. I sat up, sputtering and cursing.
Hunter wasn’t impressed. "Listen. The disk is an access key. It will link to the device within the book, and to himself. We have to let him get the book, then we strike. If we destroy the thermal orb, we destroy him.”
It took a few minutes for the information to travel across my badly rattled egg. "Get the…? But you just… Yeah…it's risky, but—"
"It's the only chance we have. Get ready."
The disk flashed, and the New Man roared in triumph. One of the sidewalls exploded, raining mortar and pieces of railing on street sweepers and Specters. Behind the wall was a hollowed-out cubby. A dusty safe levitated out, then turned to slag with a wave of his hand just like the Broad had. A book floated out from the molten cavity. It was an old, leather-bound volume with parchment pages. A monstrous skull was embossed on the cover. It sailed through the air into the New Man's hands.
"At last.” His voice boomed over the din of fighting. "At last, the Grimoire is mine.” He planted the disk on the forehead of the gleaming skull. Something like lightning flashed as it slowly opened; the pages became wafers of pure light.
"The Next Day is at hand."
The radiance flashed from the pages to his hands. His robes faded from black to shimmering white; so brilliantly we had to shield our eyes. He pointed, and streams of pure energy flashed from his fingers. Specters, Gutter Girls and goons screamed as it struck them. They toppled over with blank eyes, just empty shells that hit the ground. When the beams struck the street sweepers, they immediately short-circuited and fell over in twitching heaps of useless scrap metal.
The Troubleshooter: New Haven Blues Page 14