Marvel Novel Series 04 - Captain America - Holocaust For Hire

by Joseph Silva

  “Pansy stuff,” complained Fury. “Any simp can flick a switch and blab into a talkie box. I wanna help you—”

  “We don’t have much time, Nick. Tell me what the reporters look like.”

  “Guy’s middle-sized, curly dark hair, middle thirties. Girl is a nifty redhead. But lemme show ya the—”

  “No. Get up to the ground level,” said Captain America. “Give me fifteen minutes before you start the fireworks.”

  “Fifteen? I’ll give ya ten. Plenty of time for a cinchy job like what ya got ahead of ya.” He gave the star-spangled crusader a comradely punch on the arm before starting, a little unsteadily, away.

  Thirty-Three

  They were everywhere.

  Slugging, pummelling, kicking.

  Captain America wasn’t certain how many there were. He’d lost track when the fifteenth husky Skull trooper had joined in the battle against him.

  They had materialized unexpectedly when he was a mere hundred yards away from his destination. The doors just started popping open, like a gigantic automat gone berserk.

  The troopers were silent and methodical. They tackled him, fouled him, booted him—all in grim silence. Only grunts and labored breathing could be heard, along with the thud of fist against flesh.

  The first few were no problem. Some well-directed punches, some agile somersaulting, and Captain America had quickly crossed five of the dedicated manglers off the list.

  Five more came at him, then another five, smashing over him like a human tidal wave.

  Captain America battled tremendously, scattering the guards the way a sickle scatters grass.

  But finally, inevitably, he began to lose. There were simply too many of them.

  Cap dodged, pivoted, punched, yet he could feel himself slowing as more and more of the opposition were getting through.

  A moment more and Captain America was down. They fell upon him, silent triumph showing on their brutal faces.

  “. . . long have I anticipated this,” a hollow, echoing voice was saying. “I intend to savor it, to extend it over several pleasurable hours.”

  Captain America pushed himself up and glanced around. This was the room Nick Fury had told him about.

  Lying unconscious on the floor in a crumpled rag-doll position was a red-haired girl. A dark man was crouched beside her, hugging the pain which filled him.

  Behind the glass wall sat the Red Skull, his crimson mask looking exceptionally distorted. There also was the gaunt figure of Dr. Crandell—he seemed to be ill and frightened. And behind him were the pair of guards with rifles.

  “Looks like you’ve already been enjoying yourself,” said Captain America.

  “Merely a prelude,” chuckled the Skull. “Although I must admit Nick Fury provided me with considerable diversion. He is an incredibly stubborn man. At last, I grew tired of his continual refusal to talk.”

  “You won’t get anything out of me either,” promised Captain America.

  “I am aware that you are even more zealous about defending your insipid country than the brutish Nick Fury,” continued the Skull. “It will be interesting to see how much you can stand before you break, America.”

  “I don’t . . . think . . . Mandy can take . . . any more,” said Jake, the pain still gripping his body. “She’s not dead . . . but . . . we don’t know anything . . . I swear . . . You do . . . tell him! He’ll let us go . . . he promised . . . tell him. Please, Captain America.”

  “Once we tell him what we know, he’ll kill us,” said Cap. “There isn’t any kind of exchange that can be arranged.”

  “But, Mandy . . . I don’t want him to . . . hurt her anymore.”

  Captain America stood up, facing the Red Skull. “Why not settle this another way, Skull,” he challenged. “Meet me on this side of the glass, in hand-to-hand combat.”

  “Must I once again decline, America?” said the amplified voice. “You simply have to accept the fact I have no intention of giving you a fair chance. Now, let us proceed with the questioning. Where is Klise?”

  “In Texas, as usual.”

  Impatiently, the Skull said, “He disappeared from his home, along with three of my men. Either you or Nick Fury had a direct hand in it.”

  Captain America grinned at the man behind the glass. “I can tell you this,” he said. “You’ll never place those sonic guns in any satellite.”

  The Skull made a snarling noise. He half rose, a gloved finger jabbing a button.

  Waves of silent sound hit Captain America. Everything began to roar, and a giant pain overtook his body. Then it faded and he found himself leaning against the far wall.

  The people behind the glass were a blur.

  One of the blurs was moving.

  It was Crandell. He shoved his chair back violently, knocking over both of the men with the rifles. His thin hand shot out, got hold of the control box, and punched out a series of numbers.

  The ceiling guns swung toward the vast wall of glass.

  The glass screamed and shattered. Millions of glistening fragments rained down.

  Suddenly there was no more barrier between Captain America and the Red Skull. Cap went running across the room, his crimson boots grinding against the splashes of glass.

  “Stop him!” the Skull yelled.

  But the guards couldn’t gather up their rifles in time. Cap went sailing through the air in a nimble leap.

  He slammed into the Red Skull like a human cannonball.

  “Now will you accept my challenge?” asked Cap as he hit him hard in the ribs.

  “I’ll kill you, America!” The Skull kicked him viciously in the kneecap.

  Captain America dealt a blow to the rubbery crimson mask.

  Then there was a hubbub behind him. It sounded as though a heavy door was being torn off its hinges.

  “Yer ten minutes are up!” announced the gruff voice of Nick Fury. “SHIELD has landed and has the whole flappin’ situation well in hand.”

  Cap was only distracted for a fraction of a second, but it gave the Red Skull time to snatch up his heavy chair and use it. He managed to shove Cap off balance.

  Then he dived toward the back wall and slapped at it. A section whizzed open and he jumped through it into a corridor beyond.

  Captain America followed in a flash.

  The wall closed behind them and he chased the retreating Skull down a long, dim corridor.

  Thirty-Four

  One of the troopers was trying to get into the helicopter.

  The Red Skull shot him, kicked the body away, and shut the door of the bubble.

  Captain America saw all of it as he came pounding out across the landing pad.

  The rotor blades of the chopper had already come chuffing to life, and dust was swirling through the night.

  About a quarter mile across the island guns were chattering. Men shouted, and orange and blue explosions blossomed in the tropical blackness.

  The invasion of the Skull’s island was in full swing.

  Meanwhile, the Red Skull’s copter was rising, climbing away into the air.

  Captain America increased his pace, his mighty legs pumping furiously. Then he jumped straight up into the air. His hand caught the landing gear of the copter, making the ship lurch and sway.

  It kept rising, arcing to the left as it gained altitude.

  Cap held on, both hands firmly in place.

  He and the circling helicopter were now about a hundred feet above the ground.

  The Skull took the ship higher and higher, moving out over the black ocean.

  Suddenly a panel in the copter’s belly slid open, giving Cap a glimpse, in the greenish cabin light, of two odd-looking guns swiveling into position.

  He had to dodge and shift on his perch to avoid the thrust of the unusual barrels.

  The Skull must be planning to get out to the SHIELD helicarrier and use the sonic guns on it.

  “Better put a stop to that little scheme.”

  Like the expert gymnast
he was, he swung, booted feet foremost, up into the copter’s cabin.

  The plane gave a jump then righted itself.

  “It’s all over,” Captain America told the Red Skull.

  “America!” The Skull set the ship on an automatic course, then spun out of his seat. He held a .45 automatic in his gloved fist. “I had meant to kill you with the others below, but I can do it just as well right here and now.”

  The automatic barked.

  But the slug didn’t connect, because Cap was elsewhere. He had hurtled himself, ducking low, across the cabin.

  The Skull was able to try one more shot before the star-spangled crusader was on him. Then the powerful fingers closed on his wrist and he was forced to let go of the weapon.

  As the gun clanged to the floor Cap threw a series of punches into the Skull’s midsection.

  Fighting back violently, the Red Skull scored with two slashing jabs to the jaw.

  Cap was driven back, but he rallied once again. He pressed in, his fists pumping.

  The Skull slammed back against the control panel, the crimson mask quivering.

  The helicopter yawed, rose, dipped—its automatic pilot was no longer in control.

  As the two men battled, the ship skittered across the night sky like a balloon expelling its air.

  The Skull butted Cap in the stomach with his head, sending him dangerously close to the opening in the cabin floor.

  Cap teetered on the edge.

  The Skull ran at him, striving to ram him out into the sea.

  Regaining his balance, Captain America dodged to the right.

  Now the Skull himself nearly went out through the gap. But at the last minute he clutched at the cabin wall, pulling himself to safety.

  The copter was rattling downwards now.

  The controls! Cap realized. He spun around, reaching for them.

  The Skull jumped him, got an arm around his neck and slammed an elbow into his face.

  Cap staggered, then shot several short jabs into his opponent’s ribs.

  Then the helicopter hit the surface of the ocean with a tremendous smack. For a moment the air pressure inside the cabin kept it clear, but then the ship tilted, and foam and black water began to gush up through the opening in the floor.

  Captain America was thrown back against the pilot seat. He couldn’t see the Red Skull—or anything else for that matter—and was sinking deeper and deeper into the night sea.

  He struggled mightily against the pull of the ocean. Finally he got out of the opening and pushed himself into the sea.

  Kicking hard, Captain America kept clear of the plummeting plane. Straining every powerful muscle, he swam for the surface.

  Less than a minute later he reached his goal and felt the night air flowing into his tortured lungs.

  Treading water, he looked around for some sign of his enemy.

  Sixty seconds passed. Sixty more.

  The Red Skull did not appear.

  Inflating his massive chest, Captain America dived beneath the surface.

  He went down and down through the blackness.

  He couldn’t see anything in the chilly darkness. Not a trace of the copter—not a trace of the Red Skull.

  “Can he be dead?” he asked himself once he was again at the surface. “After all these years of battling, is the Red Skull dead at last?”

  Shaking his head, he began swimming swiftly toward land.

  Thirty-Five

  A certain calm had settled over the island.

  The fighting was over. Prisoners were being herded into the SHIELD landing craft that were lined up along the shore.

  “Hiya, Cap!” boomed Nick Fury. He was tramping along the sandy beach, dragging an unconscious hairless man by the collar. “This is the skin-headed so-and-so who fed me a dose of sonics over in Barcelona, Spain.” Letting the baron drop to the gritty sand, Fury walked toward Cap with his hand held out. “Any idea where in blazes the Red Skull is?”

  Shaking his friend’s hand, Captain America replied, “It’s possible, Nick, that he’s at the bottom of the sea.”

  “Huh?”

  “When you made your flamboyant entrance, the Skull took off down a secret tunnel. I followed.”

  “That much I knew.”

  “Then he took off in a helicopter,” continued Cap. “I tagged along. He was apparently planning to use the sonic weapons on your hovering helicarrier, then swing inland again and take care of the island.”

  “Kill everybody here?”

  “You ought to know his style by now. Life means nothing to him. if he could get rid of you and me, the sacrifice of his own staff and troopers wouldn’t bother him.”

  “So how come he didn’t get to have his fun?”

  “We were fighting up there, and the chopper went out of control and plunged into the sea,” answered Cap. “It sank. I got out, but the Skull didn’t.”

  Fury thrust a fresh cigar between his teeth and lit it. Puffing smoke, he said, “I gotta see that guy’s body before I write him off. He’s got more lives than a litter of black cats.”

  “Once we mop up here, we can send divers down.”

  “Ya wanna make a bet?”

  Cap said, “About the Skull?”

  Fury nodded. “I betcha we don’t find any trace of the guy down there.”

  Caroline couldn’t believe it. She hesitated in the doorway of the cabin for a second, staring down along the corridor.

  The gaunt man came limping along, a faint smile touching his face. “Carrie,” he said, holding out a hand.

  “Dad!” The girl ran to her father and put her arms around him.

  “I never thought we’d see each other again,” said the scientist.

  After a moment, Caroline looked up and saw Captain America standing behind them. Wiping at her eyes, she said, “Thank you, Captain America. You promised me I’d see my father again, but I don’t think I really believed you.”

  “We were lucky, Caroline,” Cap told her. “Of course, when you have Nick Fury on your side you tend to be lucky. We want the medics to have a look at your father now. We came by here to invite you to come along.”

  “Yes, fine.” She took hold of her father’s thin arm and began walking down the corridor with him. “I’m so glad everything worked out this way.”

  Shaking his head, Dr. Crandell said, “We’re both alive, Carrie. That’s very good. But a great many people died because of my invention. From now on I have to work to . . . well, in some way make up for the horrible things that were done with the sonic weapons.”

  “It wasn’t your fault. The Red Skull—”

  “Yes, I know. It would be very easy to say the fault was not mine,” said her father. “Logically, even legally, I suppose that’s so. Inside me, though, Carrie, I know I owe the world something. And whatever I do from now on, in the time I have left, I must try to repay the debt.”

  “You’ll do brilliant things,” the girl told him. “I know.”

  Walking quietly beside them, Captain America smiled.

  Jake Sheridan looked at the girl on the bed. She appeared to be sleeping peacefully now. He sat in the metal chair watching her, his hands twisting together in his lap.

  He and Amanda were alone in the small helicarrier cabin.

  “They say you’re going to be okay,” Jake said aloud to the sleeping girl. “I sure as hell hope so, Mandy. Funny thing . . . it dawned on me a while ago. Well, I don’t seem to dislike you anymore. Could be I never did. Some reporter, huh? Can’t even see what’s going on right in front of him, in his own life.” He cleared his throat and shifted his position on the hard chair. “I don’t know if I can ever say anything like this to you when you’re conscious, Mandy, but I love you. Yeah, I love you. But I suppose you, when you’re up and around again, will feel pretty much as you did when we left L.A. That’s okay, except I wish . . . well, we’ll just have to see, Mandy, how things go.”

  “Jake,” said the girl on the bed, her eyes still shut.

/>   He leaned close. “Are you awake?”

  “I have been for the last ten minutes,” she said, a smile touching her lips.

  “Oh, so? Then you heard all that—”

  “Heard it, and liked it.” She reached up to touch his cheek with her warm hand. Her eyes opened and she looked directly into his face. “We can work out the details later, but for now . . . well, I don’t loathe you anymore, Jake.”

  “Hey, that’s terrific.” He took hold of her hand.

  “There’s just one thing,” she said.

  “Anything. What?”

  “After we’re married . . . please don’t call me Mandy.”

  Thirty-Six

  Someone was actually having a haircut in the barbershop.

  An immaculate young man sat in the chair talking soccer with the barber.

  Captain America, clad in trench coat and hat, went through the usual ritual. Three minutes later he was in the office of Nick Fury.

  He got out of the coat and hat, watching his friend.

  Fury was behind the desk, his face hidden by a magazine. His cigar was sending angry smoke signals up from behind the periodical.

  “Morning, Nick.”

  “Did ya see this rag?”

  “Current issue of Newsmag, isn’t it?” Cap settled into a chair facing the desk.

  “You’re damn tootin’ it is.” Fury slapped the magazine down on the desk top. His face was scowling. Even his eye patch looked angry. “The nerve of them two. After all I did for ’em.”

  Grinning, Cap said, “Something in the write-up annoy you?”

  Fury’s finger speared a paragraph in the offending magazine article. “You . . . you they call ‘the ageless crusader for justice.’ I coulda been ageless, too, if I’da got froze in a goldang . . . well, never mind that. Now let’s read along a bit further. Blah, blah . . . ‘brilliant rescue operation . . .’ blah, blah . . . ‘saved world . . .’ blah, blah . . . ‘aging spy guy, Nick Fury, tough despite the rubber tire around his middle-aged middle . . .’ Can ya believe that? I rescue them two ingrates, save their cookies. Hell, they’re gonna get married, I hear. Yeah, Nick Fury plays cupid and they end up bitin’ the hand that feeds ’em. Aging spy guy am I? I’ll show ’em who’s agin’. I gotta mind to show up at their flappin’ weddin’ and throw rice. Hunnert-pound sacks of rice. Fat around the middle, am I? I can still go fifteen rounds with—”