The Peregrine Omnibus Volume One

by Barry Reese

  “When’s Evelyn due back?” McKenzie asked, rising to walk Max to the door.

  “Not sure. I heard from her last evening and she said the director had called for another week’s worth of filming. Apparently he didn’t like the original ending and wants to rework it.”

  “Well, enjoy your temporary return to bachelorhood while you can,” McKenzie joked. His youthful face grew serious. “Do you think we’ll get caught up in that mess in Europe?”

  “Hitler, you mean?” Max paused before answering. He’d clashed with enough Nazis in recent times to know their capacity for violence was extremely high. And Hitler’s growing interest in the occult spelled certain trouble. “I wouldn’t be at all surprised. Not at all.”

  * * *

  The Peregrine crept in through a partially open window, stepping into Craddock’s darkened hotel room. The millionaire was sleeping soundly, his snores echoing off the walls. Max noticed a finely made suit tossed haphazardly over the back of a chair. It was enough to make Max wince—the clothing must have cost a small fortune but Craddock seemed to treat it like an old rag.

  Creeping near the bed, Max retrieved a small flashlight from his cloak and turned its burn on, shining it full force into Craddock’s face. The man jumped up, blinking in alarm. “What the hell—?”

  A playing card flew through the air, landing atop Craddock’s sheets. It sported a white background, upon which a black bird was captured in flight. “You can call me the Peregrine,” Max whispered, keeping his voice low. “I understand you need my help.”

  Craddock clutched at the playing card like a drowning man clinging to a life preserver. “Did the police chief tell you…? About that damned Moon Man?”

  “I know he’s a costumed criminal… and that he made off with a small fortune from your party.”

  “You’ve got that straight.” Craddock raised a hand to ward off the harsh glare of the flashlight. “Could you lower that thing?”

  “No,” the Peregrine answered. He’d read up on Craddock on the way over and he knew about the man’s techniques in earning his fortune. He’d follow the letter of the law in this affair, but he wouldn’t seek out the man’s friendship. “What does the Moon Man spend his loot on?”

  “How the hell should I know?” Craddock replied testily. “I’d imagine he’s living it up. Probably has six cars and a harem of women.”

  “Over the past few years, he’s made quite a haul, stealing money from the idle rich. But he keeps coming back for more… that makes me think he’s either got some very expensive habits or he’s driven by something more than mere greed. A compulsion, perhaps… or the thrill of the chase.”

  “I could care less why he does it or what he spends the cash on. The point is it’s my cash he’s spending!”

  The Peregrine abruptly turned off the flashlight, sending the room into pitch-black darkness. “I’ll be in Great City by tomorrow night, Mr. Craddock, and I’ll deal with your Moon Man problem… but I’m doing this only because I owe someone else a favor. From what I know of you, you’re scum… and probably more than deserving of what’s happened to you.”

  “You’re gonna plug him?” Craddock asked, a dangerous sort of glee in his voice.

  “I won’t kill him, if that’s what you mean. I don’t do that anymore.”

  “If you turn him over to the cops in Great City, he’ll be free before morning. They can’t handle him!”

  Craddock waited in the dark for a response, but heard none. When he finally worked up the nerve to turn on the small lamp on the nightstand next to his bed, he found that the Peregrine was gone.

  CHAPTER V

  Invisible Death

  “I can’t believe it! The nerve of him!”

  Stephen Thatcher stood in the corner of his father’s office, watching as his immediate supervisor, Gil McEwen, vented his frustrations to Steve’s father, the chief of police. Two days had passed since Craddock had returned to the city, his return trumpeted in the newspapers as an indictment of the local police. It was well known that the millionaire had gone in search of help, having abandoned hope that the Great City police force would assist him.

  “Calm down, Gil,” the elder Thatcher was advising. With a stern expression, the old man was generally feared around the department. But his expression often softened when he gazed upon his son, whom he loved more than life itself. “Steve told you there was nothing that anybody could do. The Moon Man was in and out of there so fast, it wouldn’t have mattered if we’d had a dozen officers on the scene!”

  Gil chewed on the end of an unlit cigar. He was a thirty-year veteran of the force and widely regarded as the finest detective in Great City, but his inability to capture the Moon Man ate away at him. “He’s making us all look like fools, Chief! And now we’ve got Craddock saying he’s bringing some vigilante with him from down South! We can’t let it happen!” Gil leaned forward in his seat. “Let me organize a full task force, Chief. Let Steve handle my usual duties—if I focus every bit of my attention on this case, I can catch him! I know I can!”

  “We need you on other cases,” the elder Thatcher cautioned. “I understand your position but I’ve got to look out for the entire city, not just focus on one thief—even one as notable as the Moon Man.”

  Gil harrumphed but didn’t argue any further. He recognized the look in the chief’s eyes and knew there was no hope of persuading him.

  “Steve, did you find out anything related to where that money was taken?”

  Steve stood up straight when his father addressed him, nodding quickly. “Sure did. Stacks of it have shown up all over town, all wrapped up in silver bands of foil. The Moon Man dispersed the money to a local orphanage and to old man Wilkinson, the one who lost his wife last fall and just had a heart attack.”

  Gil rubbed his chin. “I just don’t get it. Why does he do it? I’m not even sure he keeps anything for himself!”

  “Maybe he’s doing what he thinks is right,” Steve offered.

  Gil considered the notion and quickly dismissed it. “Nah. There’s an angle he’s got. We just haven’t figured out what it is yet.”

  Steve nodded, as if in agreement, though the man’s words gnawed away at him. How would Gil react if he knew his daughter was dating the Moon Man? Would it make any difference in how Gil viewed the Moon Man’s actions?

  “So are we gonna get the money back from those folks?”

  Gil’s words brought Steve’s attention back to the conversation. Without thinking, he blurted out “Why would we do that?”

  “Because it’s not their money,” Gil replied, staring at him. “That cash belongs to Craddock.”

  “But he doesn’t deserve it,” Steve said, his voice quavering. “And those poor people that got the money need it.”

  “Sounds to me like you’re forgetting what your job is,” Gil pointed out. “We’re agents of the law. We don’t make those kinds of decisions. It’s Craddock’s money.”

  Steve stood his ground, wondering if he’d made a serious miscalculation in revealing where the money had ended up. “We can’t take that money away from them, Gil. It’s not their fault that the cash was stolen from someone else.”

  “Yeah, but—”

  The conversation came to a halt when the office door flew open, revealing the young face of a rookie cop. “Sorry for interrupting, Chief… but you better turn on the radio!”

  Steve saw a nod from his father and did so, turning on a small desktop radio near the window. The voice that came through the air was muffled, like someone was speaking through a mask of some sort.

  “It’s been repeating for the past five minutes,” the rookie cop said. “It’s on every station, too!”

  “That’s enough, son.” The chief waved the young man out of the office, rising from his seat so that he could join his son and Gil in crowding around the radio. “I bet it’s related to that strange robbery-murder that took place at the bank, Gil. We’ve been waiting for the mastermind behind that to make an app
earance ever since that guard told us what happened”

  “Maybe this Dr. Lycos is working with the Moon Man,” Gil wondered aloud, drawing a smile from Steve. At least this has turned the conversation away from the money and those poor souls who’ve gotten it, he mused. Steve’s grin disappeared as soon as the madman’s voice on the radio began to grow clearer.

  “I repeat,” Lycos was saying, “if the leaders of this city want to avoid a catastrophe of the highest order, they will give in to my demands. My name is Prof. Lycos and I have grown tired of my brilliance helping to line the pockets of my employers… from now on, I’ll use my creations to benefit my own existence! What happened at the bank was nothing more than a test run and I’d imagine that the sole survivor of that attack has made it quite clear that my men and I are deadly serious about getting what we want. Within the hour, details on the amount of money we expect and where we want it delivered will be made clear to the authorities. In the meantime, prepare yourselves for another example of my power!”

  “What the heck does that mean?” Gil wondered.

  Steve moved over to his father’s desk, plucking up a sealed envelope that had arrived from the coroner’s office just prior to the beginning of the Moon Man discussion. “Dad? Can I open this?”

  “Might as well. Maybe the coroner’s report will give us a clue about what that madman’s up to.”

  Steve pulled out a small packet of papers, scanning through them quickly. “That gas that Lycos used… when it gets into the lungs of the victim, it begins to solidify into larger and larger chunks of salt and rock. The poor souls are suffocated from the inside out!”

  “What a horrible way to go,” Gil murmured, shaking his head.

  “Oh lord… he wouldn’t dare!”

  Steve looked up from the paper, glancing over at his father, who had just spoken up. “What is it?”

  Steve’s father pointed out the window with a trembling finger. “Sound the alarm! Tell everybody who’ll listen to get inside and shut all the windows!”

  Steve moved to look outside, the blood freezing in his veins. A zeppelin was on the horizon, partially obscuring the full moon that hung in the sky. From the belly of the great airship protruded a nozzle of some kind… and Steve felt certain that it was spraying invisible death down upon the city below.

  CHAPTER VI

  The Peregrine in Flight

  Max Davies had been in Great City for less than 48 hours, but in that time he had been reminded of both the best and worst about big city life. There was electricity to the air that spoke of endless opportunity… but there was also a coldness that permeated the place. He had checked in to a fine hotel, making sure to pick one that afforded him easy access to and from the city streets below. After getting settled in, he had begun making frequent visits to the local library, scanning through the archives for all stories related to the Moon Man. It was while doing so that he’d come across the peculiar murders at the bank several days before. The whole affair had piqued his interest but it had not deterred him from his primary goal: that being the careful study of the master criminal who had plagued this metropolis for so very long.

  He was returning from a visit to the library when he’d heard the screams: panicked and sharp, full of terror. Max was standing near a newsstand at the time and he rushed over immediately, pushing his way through a small crowd of citizens. The group was huddled around a radio, listening intently. “What’s going on?” he asked, shivering a bit from a cold wind that was blowing.

  “Some nutcase says he’s gonna show off his power,” a stout fellow to his left said. “Says he’s the one who killed those folks at the bank!”

  “Did he say how?”

  “I bet it has to do with that thing!” the man replied, pointing upwards. A large airship was passing overhead in the distance, some sort of strange nozzle pointing downwards from the ship’s underbelly. “And I’m gonna get the heck outta here!”

  Max ignored the crowd’s dispersing. A few car horns blared as frightened citizens ran through the streets, seeking shelter. Max had read enough of the news to realize that some sort of invisible, odorless gas had killed those poor people in the bank. He stepped into an alleyway, retrieving a small collapsible breathing apparatus from a hidden compartment in his overcoat. The breath mask served a dual purpose, hiding his identity in addition to purifying the air.

  The Peregrine ascended up a nearby fire escape ladder, reaching the roof just in time to see the great airship approaching. Max narrowed his eyes and made out a few gas masked figures through the windows of the zeppelin. He glanced around, eager to do something—anything—to prevent what must be occurring, but for long moments there seemed to be nothing he could do. And then he reached into the pocket of his coat, pulling forth a small device that looked like a black matchbook. A small red dial on the center of the device was soon depressed and the Peregrine stood stock still, waiting…

  Over the screams below, he heard the approaching engines of his personal airplane. He had flown into the city, parking the unusual craft at an airfield outside the heart of the metropolis. The original had been lost over Germany during an adventure involving the Rosicrucians, but he’d spared no expense in building a second craft—one that would answer his summons, homing in on the signal given off by the strange device he carried on his person at all times.

  The ebony colored plane flew low over the rooftops, slowing as it neared its master. The Peregrine timed his movements just so, leaping from the building and landing nimbly on the wing of the craft. The door slid open as he approached and he threw himself in before the winds knocked him askew. Once inside, he pulled off his breathing apparatus and made for the cockpit. The plane was well armed, carrying enough armaments to frighten a horde of fighter craft… one lone airship would pose no threat against it—but how to destroy it without drenching the city below in the strange gas?

  The Peregrine’s plane quickly overtook the slower moving airship, a spray of well-placed bullets striking the nozzle that protruded from the ship’s underbelly. The nozzle bent first one way, then the next, before finally shattering into several pieces.

  Onboard the airship, the men who served Prof. Lycos stared in surprise. They hadn’t expected to face such resistance—the master’s orders had seemed simple enough: spray the gas over the heart of the city and then flee before the authorities could mobilize a response. Unfortunately, Lycos had not planned on the Peregrine!

  The Peregrine flew his plane in a controlled manner, directing just enough gunfire to herd the airship towards the ocean. When he felt certain that they were far enough away from the city that the threat to life was minimized, he opened fire again, strafing the ship enough that it quickly began to lose altitude. He did this as carefully as possible, well aware that the combustible gases onboard the zeppelin could explode at any time, killing the men onboard. He relaxed a bit as several parachutes sprang into view, as the cowards within the ship opted for the better part of valor.

  The Peregrine picked up the radio transmitter in the cockpit and directed it towards the local police band. “I count four men in the water, about half a mile outside the city. They won’t be hard to find—not with that zeppelin of theirs beginning to burn. If I were you, I’d move quickly—assuming you want to save all of them.”

  The gravelly voice of Gil McEwen answered back. “Who in the blue blazes is this?”

  “Men call me the Peregrine,” Max intoned, using some of the techniques he’d learned from Evelyn to deepen his voice melodramatically. She’d convinced him that the need for theatrics was present in his work—and it certainly did make things more fun for him. “I’ve come to deal with the Moon Man problem you gents have been having… but it looks like I’ll have more than just that to keep me busy. I’m sure we’ll talk again soon, officer.”

  Before Gil could respond, the Peregrine silenced his radio. He turned his plane back towards the city, knowing that he’d have to fly with his lights dimmed to avoid being tracked. He
’d come to Great City with only one goal in mind—that being the capture of the Moon Man—but as he’d told the police officer, it was becoming abundantly clear that there was another, more imminent threat to be dealt with…

  CHAPTER VII

  Without the Masks

  “Damn it!” Gil chewed with renewed vigor on his unlit cigar, pacing up and down the sterile hallways of the Great City Hospital.

  Steve stood nearby, arms crossed over his chest. He looked dapper in his police uniform, but he was also bone weary and it showed. After the attack that Lycos had launched, nearly forty people had been hospitalized—with nearly half that many dying within the first half hour. Given how deadly this gas appeared to be, it was daunting to think what the madman could do if his demands weren’t met. “We’ll catch him, Gil. You know we will.”

  “And how many more will die before we do, eh?” the older man wondered aloud. He ran a hand through his thinning hair and turned a thankful gaze upon Steve. “Go on home, will ya? You don’t have to stay. Or at least go back to the station and wait for that madman’s instructions to arrive.”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” Steve answered firmly. “I… love her, too.”

  Gil nodded, swallowing hard. “You’re gonna make a great son-in-law someday.”

  I doubt you’d say that if you knew about the Moon Man, Steve mused. But I appreciate the sentiment regardless.

  Both men looked up as a doctor emerged from behind a set of swinging doors. “Gentlemen,” he said, nodding at them both. “Ms. McEwen received only a light dosage of the gas—she’s luckier than most I’ve seen tonight.”

  “How bad is it?” Gil asked. Steve placed a comforting hand on the man’s shoulder. Sue meant everything to her father and the normally tough-as-nails cop had nearly fallen to pieces when he’d received the call from the hospital. Steve had barely been any better, truth be told.

  “She’s going to be okay, but I’d like to keep her at the hospital for another 24 hours. The damage wasn’t severe but she still has some difficulty breathing.”