In Hero Years... I'm Dead Delux Edition

by Michael A. Stackpole

  No alarm. We were good to go. We tossed the climbing ropes down, clipped into them, and began our descent.

  Three aspects of the Little Asia Massacre bothered me–aside from my inability to do anything to help. First off, the Zomboyz had been more heavily armed and armored than before. Their shots were chewing up concrete and denting metal. Moreover, Samizdat wore some sort of glove that amplified his power. Unless I’d completely blown my research on that gang, they shouldn’t have been capable of kicking out a quarter of that firepower–and the Red Devils weren’t any tougher.

  Second, the caper had come without any warning. It wasn’t put out to bid. While the media was once again characterizing it as a meticulously-planned operation, the execution belied that notion. They hadn’t secured a line of retreat and they didn’t need to blow up the Pearl Exchange just to rob it. Unless their goal was to wreak havoc, the whole operation was sloppy.

  And I would have been content to let that analysis stand, save for the Zomboy who had tried to shoot me. He was intent on me, but spun and shot a cop who was behind him. I could have put that down to luck or mutant danger sense or something, but when I landed on that other Zomboy I’d noticed a small radio earbud.

  So, somebody was controlling the whole operation, and it wasn’t either of the gang leaders. But the effort and expense of mounting such an operation would only make sense if there was some profit from it. The whole question of “who benefits” came up a huge zero.

  Monetarily, anyway. Redhawk benefited. While Colonel Constitution and C4 II caught a lot of flack for unnecessary use of force and having hurt more people than they helped, Redhawk came out the big hero. He didn’t stick around for interviews afterward, but a spokesman for the Mayor’s office said the retired hero had spoken with the Mayor after the incident. Redhawk had just happened to be in the area shopping and had been happy to help out as he could.

  Barbara Nimura had not been identified as Blue Ninja. In fact, shortly after the smoke cleared, Blue Ninja posted a message to a Hall of Fame sanctioned website, claiming to be okay. She apologized for not having been able to do more to help out. The fact that Barbara was out, and Kim didn’t know yet she’d been injured, meant someone else knew her identity and was protecting her.

  Barbara had been taken to Haste Memorial Medical Center and put in intensive care. I figured the police had taken her effects as evidence–removing the rings that might save her. As Murdoch reports about her condition became more grim, I became convinced the rings were the keys to her survival. Somehow I talked Selene into helping me.

  We descended through the grand stairwell in City College’s Hawking Building. We dropped down three floors, then swung on the ropes until we reached the railing and slid over it. After securing the ropes, we approached the seventeenth floor door.

  Selene had slipped into her Scarlet Fox uniform and it fit perfectly. The red leather bodysuit had a holster at one hip, whip caddy at the other and, at the small of her back, a small pouch for tools. A domino mask hid her face, and she chose to wear her hood up to further shadow her face.

  I’d raided Kid Coyote’s base for my gear. Instead of one of the old uniforms, I pulled on a black stealth-suit with no markings. Two shock rods–old original models that were all charged up–went into the forearm sheaths. I looped a tool-belt around my waist and, for old time’s sake, used a pointy chin prosthetic beneath my cowl. Selene had wrinkled her nose at that, but indulged me.

  Once I’d decided that Nimura’s nanites might be able to heal her up, I figured she had to have more at her lab. She would have been too smart to risk the only prototype and, for all I knew, she needed a breeding colony of nanites so she could replace the supply from time to time. Of course, I wasn’t even sure how nanites reproduced themselves, but I was banking on her having that covered.

  I produced a set of lockpicks to open the stairwell door, then held a hand up and pointed. The latch had been taped back. Selene and I each checked for any warning devices that had been attached on our side, then I slipped a cable-scope beneath the door. The corridor was clear on the other side.

  I slipped a shock rod into my right hand and Selene uncoiled her whip. Remaining low, we cut through the door and hugged the wall. The corridor, which ran between two labs, had been made of glass walls. For all intents and purposes, however, the desks that had been pushed up against it gave us plenty of cover. We advanced soundlessly, which allowed us to hear the faint, keening of a drill working through case-hardened steel. The scent of burning oil permeated the whole area.

  I used the scope again. Four figures, men by their bulk, clustered around the safe in the Nimura lab. One crouched, changing the drill-bit, while another squirted oil into the hole. The other two men were lookouts, but were looking-in, which allowed us to surprise them.

  Selene whipped the drill out of one man’s hand while I goosed another with a shock rod. He yelped and fainted, clutching parts that were tingling uncomfortably. Selene’s whip flicked again, catching the driller by the throat. She pitched him at the other two guys, and they all went down in a tangled heap, accounting for everyone rather quickly.

  Too quickly. Back in the day…

  A hand closed around the back of my neck. A quick jerk and I went flying deeper into the lab. I smashed my way through a half-dozen racks of flasks and test-tubes, then caromed off a mass spectrometer. Still very surprised, I slid to the floor and rolled left. My assailant crushed the spectrometer with a nasty football kick. Pieces of the device pierced the acoustic tiles above.

  My ribs ached in sympathy.

  I tried to sweep his legs, but he just jumped back through a somersault. He tucked tightly, neatly spinning between desktop and ceiling, then landed in a low, three-point crouch. He wore a black bodysuit just like mine, but his gloves were bulkier, like he’d stolen them from a hockey player.

  His raised fist shot forward. I dodged right. His punch grazed my ribs, then shattered the cabinet door behind me.

  He growled at me. “You’re slow.”

  I rolled back as he punched again. I parried with a shock rod. He grabbed the end of it. “Really slow.”

  I hit the button for the juice. It sizzled. He just shook his head.

  “Really stupid, too. Insulated gloves.”

  “You’re not the first guy to think of that, sport.” I twisted my wrist. Spring-steel needles shot out, piercing the glove front and back.

  I gave him a second to stare at his ruined hand, then hit the power button. His body shook, then collapsed. I gave him a second jolt just to make sure, then retracted the needles. I wiped the blood off on his uniform. Stripping off his gloves, I bound him wrist, thumbs and ankles with zip-ties, then joined Selene at the safe.

  She already had it open. We rooted around and, quickly enough, found two boxes, each with a prototype pair of rings. Wordlessly we agreed to take both. I also appropriated a removable hard drive, a stack of opdat disks and two notebooks. I found some blank opdat disks and used the mirrored surfaces to fingerprint our pals, then tucked them away.

  Selene closed the safe, then poked one of the dulled bits into the hole. She kicked it, driving it deep into the tumblers, sealing the safe. We headed back out the way we came, and escaped without anyone being the wiser.

  After cleaning up at Selene’s place, we found the Nimura family sitting quietly in a waiting room outside the Intensive Care Unit. Her parents, both slightly younger than me, clung to each other. A young man, probably fifteen years old, held an open science fiction novel by Fred Saberhagen, but wasn’t turning pages very quickly.

  I addressed myself to Barbara’s father. “Mr. Nimura, Castigan, pleased to make your acquaintance. Your daughter sought Castigan’s services as an appraiser earlier today. She entrusted to Castigan a pair of devices which are of great value to her. Castigan believes they would be of great comfort to her and may assist her recovery.”

  I produced a jewelry box and opened it, revealing two silver rings with a distinctive blue stone
set in each. Her father stared at them blankly, then looked up at me.

  “My daughter owns no such thing. We are modest people and these are far too valuable to have belonged to her. We would have known.”

  Selene stepped up. “I am Selene Kole, Castigan’s employer. I was present at his meeting with your daughter. He is telling the truth.”

  Barbara’s mother looked up, swiping at tears. “We appreciate your attempting to help us, but we are private people. We do not accept charity.”

  “Castigan assures you…”

  Her mother closed the box with a snap. “Please, leave us alone.”

  “No, it’s true.” The boy had put his book down. “Barb wanted to surprise you.”

  “Andrew? What do you know?”

  His father’s question sent a tremor through the boy. “Well, um, I saw her working one night and…”

  “Castigan should explain that your daughter’s researches had produced this unusual stone.” I opened the box again. “It is quite akin to what they used to call ‘mood rings.’ You will recall them. A novelty which has great commercial potential, but which your daughter felt you might see as being rather frivolous. They were brought to Castigan for him to assess their value on the market. Your daughter did not want to part with them, for they were most dear to her. She hoped the sales would further her researches, as well as repay you for all you have done to support her. She also wished Andrew to have money for education.”

  The boy nodded solemnly. “Barb really loved the rings. You’ve seen her wearing them sometimes, but you didn’t notice. It’ll make her feel better if she’s got them on. I know it will.”

  I closed the box and handed it to Andrew. He and I shared a glance. He knew the true significance of the rings. He’d been the one to author the online note in Blue Ninja’s name. He understood that I knew the truth, and that I understood his parents remained in the dark.

  Barbara’s father stood and reached for his wallet. “I shall pay you for your services, and the cost of your coming down here.”

  “Absolutely not.” Selene was adamant. “I have a daughter just a little younger than your Barbara. But for the grace of God, it could be her laying in there. We will not take your money. And, in fact, Castigan here is going to head down the street to fetch food. You’ve not eaten. I can see it on your faces.”

  The girl’s mother shook her head. “I’m not hungry.”

  “That doesn’t mean you don’t have to eat. You have to keep up your strength so you’ll be ready for when she wakes up.”

  Andrew stood up. “I’ll go help Castigan lug food.” He caught a look from his father. “Mister Castigan lug food.”

  “Stay with your wife. Things will be fine.” I gave her father a smile, then headed out with Andrew in tow. He’d tucked the box into a pocket in his cargo shorts, and said nothing until we were in the elevator. Then, when he started, I raised a finger to my lips and he remained quiet.

  Outside the hospital I nodded to him. “You’ll get the rings to her.”

  “I know what to do.”

  “How long have you known?”

  “Six months. She’s known I know for three.” Andrew sighed. “I think that’s why she was pushing to finish the project. She thought I was in danger.”

  My eyes narrowed. “Anything specific?”

  “No, nothing that I noticed, and I would have noticed. I’m very observant.”

  “See the black sedan following us?”

  Andrew smiled, but didn’t turn. “There is no black sedan.”

  “Very good.” I nodded. “So your sister was feeling threatened?”

  “I think so, but she didn’t say. I think she suspected some industrial espionage or something. She kept quiet because she didn’t want me worried.”

  I let him pick the restaurant. He took me to a Jewish deli where we ordered up a bunch of pastrami sandwiches. Andrew said deli food was a guilty pleasure they seldom indulged in. I added in a cold meat platter and a veggie platter to be sent up to the ICU staff.

  On the way back, I handed Andrew one of Castigan’s cards, and scribbled a number on the back. “Anyone ask questions, anyone shows an interest in the rings, you let me know.”

  He pocketed it. “Barbara didn’t give these to you, did she?”

  “There were others interested in them, too. How or why, I don’t know.” I frowned. “I don’t believe what happened today was designed to catch your sister, primarily because no one made an attempt to get to her once Blue Ninja was down. Still…”

  I stopped and slapped a hand against my forehead. “Oh, nuts. If you give those rings to her and Blue Ninja shows up in that bed, her ID is blown. We’ll have to move her to a private clinic…”

  “Don’t worry, Mr. Castigan, I got it covered.” Andrew gave me a winning smile. “Barbara is way wicked smart. She pretty much thinks of everything and, lucky for her, I know even more than she imagines.”

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Selene secured the other prototype rings in her gallery’s vault. This was not the floor vault visible to everyone, but the other vault beneath it. To get to it you had to remove the armored plate in the bottom of the first safe. She’d installed it herself, welding the second safe to a steel girder below, so it wasn’t going anywhere.

  We returned to my shop and fashioned two pairs of passable look-alike rings. Using a watch battery and some diodes, I faked the lightning. We secured those in ring boxes with the intent in putting one within the Selene’s main vault. The other went into a decoy vault she’d had built into the floor beneath a sculpture by the Verdant Beetle.

  Exhausted, we slept in, then headed over to the shop and snagged breakfast on the way. We got there about a half-hour before Diana, and ate at the workbench.

  Selene dabbed the corner of her mouth with a napkin. “The break-in goes to your idea that these operations are under the control of someone other than the leaders on the ground. Baron Samizdat and Mephistopheles are cooling their heels in the Armory, so they couldn’t have ordered the break-in.”

  “And why would they need to? If they had an inkling of what Blue Ninja was, they could have scored the original rings from her body.” My brows arrowed together. “I don’t know if it’s like the Red Signal’s power ring, where you have to be bonded to it to make it work, but either could have snatched a ring and tried.”

  “More to your point, however, no one could have anticipated Blue Ninja being there in the first place.”

  “Right, so someone who watched the fight went and tracked the injured, discovered her identity and did the research to find the lab. The observer was sharp enough to evaluate what he saw, and then had the resources to react.”

  The intercom buzzed.

  “What is it, Diana?”

  “A Mr. Leonidas Chase to see Castigan.”

  I put my egg sandwich down. “Tall man, slender, white hair?”

  “Tall and thin, yes, but he has an opera cloak on and a slouch-brimmed hat.”

  Selene shot me a quizzical look.

  “He’s always had a sense of the theatrical” I sighed. “Buzz him in.”

  We entered the showroom as our visitor made it through the door. He swept his hat off and handed his cloak to Diana.

  I folded my arms. “Little early in the day for opera, isn’t it, dad?”

  Sinisterion fairly hissed at the familiarity. Ignoring me, he crossed to Selene and brought her proffered hand to his lips. “Lovely to see you again, my dear.”

  I raised an eyebrow.

  She smiled. “And you.” Then she turned to me. “We dated a couple of times.”

  “You dated my father?”

  “Before I met you. Kind of a King and Queen of the Underworld thing. Didn’t work.” She slipped her hand from his. “I don’t believe in triangles and he’s too in love with himself to let anyone else in.”

  Sinisterion pulled himself erect. “I do so treasure flattery.”

  “But you’d prefer worship.”

>   “Prefer?” He laughed. It almost sounded genuine. “Deserve.”

  “Yeah, well, this isn’t a church so…”

  My father ignored me, opening is arms and turning to take it all in. “A mausoleum, perhaps; ah, a temple to a fallen age.”

  Diana looked at me oddly.

  “Diana, this is…”

  Sinisterion turned and gave her a predator’s smile. “Doctor Sinisterion at your service.”

  She blinked, then sat and went for a drawer in which one of her grandfather’s Cat’s-claws rested.

  My father approached the vault. He nodded at Puma’s framed uniform. “Fear not, child, for I mean neither you nor your family any malice. I was saddened by your great-grandfather’s death. Yes, I know who you are–my son did not reveal your secret. I’ve known for a while. I honor your familial loyalties. Others could learn well from you.”

  “Uh huh.” I retreated to a small chest, opened it, and pulled out the letter Puma had meant to go to my father. “It’s a bit easier being related to a hero than you. By the way, Puma wanted you to have this.”

  My father looked at the letter as if it was an asp, then tucked it away in his breast pocket. “You see, this is exactly what I meant about the end of an era. During my time in prison–innocent though I was–Puma wrote to me regularly, hoping to redeem me. Even after the break-out went awry and your mother was murdered, he sent me a condolence letter. I suspect, in part, his sense of guilt over her death is why he stopped pursuing me. I had to content myself with the likes of Nighthaunt.”

  I shook my head. “And yet you still found time to train me to kill Puma.”

  “I needed a hobby.”

  Diana stared from him to me and back. “I don’t… I…”

  Selene shook her head. “Me, neither. We’ll have to get a transcript and have it annotated.”

  Again Sinisterion laughed. “It’s not all that complex, ladies, and both of you are capable of understanding rather easily. Life is about choices. Good versus evil. An event happens. Your parents are gunned down in cold blood while you’re a child. You see this senseless act of violence and you make a decision. You decide never to be powerless in the face of violence again. That decision shapes you, shapes those around you. Your life has focus and meaning. Through willpower and courage you make the world your own.”