by Matt Abraham
They were standing on a boardwalk, in front of the ocean, with no shops or signs in the background. Both of them had on sweaters so the place had seasons. None of that helped, but I kept looking. I must have sat there for at least ten minutes, like Galileo with his telescope, but I couldn’t find a thing.
The more I stared though, the more I couldn’t shake the feeling that the girl looked familiar. Was she a model? Maybe. Pinnacle could land one easy, but she didn’t seem the type. Models, runway or otherwise, are all hard angles and sinew, and she was softer, more supple. An actress maybe? Nope.
And then I realized who she was. I knew her face and I knew her name. I even knew where to find her. What I didn’t know was how this could happen, or how Pinnacle could’ve been so stupid.
I pocketed the picture, closed the bookshelf door, and bolted from the apartment. On my way to the ground floor I remembered that Fangirl said Pinnacle’s mystery gal had something to do with his absence. But that was wrong. She had everything to do with it. I hopped into Jane, and took off. I knew what I had to do, but in order to do it I’d need a drink.
Thank God my next stop was a bar.
Chapter 13
Even by Gold Coast’s standards Henchmen’s isn’t your typical watering hole. It was founded way back by Dastard Lee as a place exclusively for black capes. There are peanuts on the bar, hot tunes on the juke, and somebody getting walloped every time the big hand hits twelve. Granted it’s been a while since I stopped by, but I still say there’s no better place to grab a brew.
But tonight was different.
Tonight I was here to catch a killer.
I took the stairs down below street level, and walked inside. The dingy floor was covered with checker tile and the mirror over the bar still had the same stains. The place was deserted except for the two sleeping drunks, and a bartender who was busy reading the paper in the corner. He gazed over the top of it and said, “We’re closed.”
I said, “Fronts don’t close,” and didn’t break stride as I made my way to the comms unit hidden in the old timey gramophone on the far wall. On its side was a large, black button. I pressed it, and spoke into the horn. “Let me in.”
“We’re closed, sir,” it squawked back.
Sir? When did that start happening? “Not a chance, you probably-”
“I’m terribly sorry, sir, but we are.”
“There’s no way you’re closed because you never close. Come on pal, I’m no SPEC and I’m no cop.” I took off my hat to give whoever was on the other side of the wall a look at my mug. “Be a good lad and pop the lock, I’m square.”
I stood, hat in hand, thinking about the last time I even had to use the buzzer. As long as I could remember the doors flew open before I got halfway to them, but that was what… almost a year ago. Had it really been that long?
I was going to hit the button again when the voice on the other side finally said, “I’m terribly sorry for the confusion sir, please come in.” The wall in front of me slid open, and I stepped through into the dark hallway that led to coat check. There I ran into a uniformed doorman I didn’t know. He was a big boy too. His blond hair was cropped close to the roots, and he sported a pair of tiny eyes that were set too close together.
“Your coat, sir?” The parts of the room that his body didn’t take up, and there weren’t many, got filled by his voice.
“Here you go.” I handed him my overcoat and hat, and went to walk by.
“One moment, sir. Are you armed?”
“No guns?” I said. “In Henchmen’s? Times have changed.”
“Indeed they have. Henchmen’s now has a strict no weapons policy. Are you carrying?”
“Indeed I am, and if you can take them, you can take them.”
“Are you going to be trouble?”
I could tell by the tone he was hoping for a yes, but instead all he got was a “Nope, not me.” I pulled open my jacket exposing the hardware beneath. “And Rico here will probably come quietly too, but Lois is real particular.”
“I’m sure we’ll get along,” he said.
He was no speedster so my Kapowitzer would lay him out easy, and I had no intention of stopping it. Walking into Henchmen’s with nothing but empty holsters was not a part of the plan, but just as the big guy’s meat hooks were an inch from my lady a man called out. “One moment Hate, you don’t want to do that.”
The doorman stopped cold, and I immediately recognized the voice. “Franky? Franky Legend? How the hell are you?”
“How else but legendary?” he said, and shook my hand.
Franky was what you’d call an old friend, but since Franky didn’t have friends the word you should’ve used was acquaintance. I gave him a quick up and down. He was still pure classic, a throwback to a bygone age, but thanks to the cyclical nature of fashion his style had come back around, and didn’t he just look the nines. His black hair was slicked back, he wore a tux, and had on that constant smile which always stayed sharp, even when he worked you over. He’d picked up a few wrinkles, and some gray up top too, but even though time had taken his youthful luster it left him with a nice patina. It suited him.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
“I run this joint now,” Franky said, “and you can leave Mr. Curse his weapons Hate, he won’t be a problem, will you Dane?”
“Who me? If I get squirrely I’m sure it won’t be anything an old flamer like you can’t handle,” I said. “But when have I ever caused a ruckus?”
Hate looked at me. “Is he new?”
Franky smirked. “Not for many decades.”
“Well, enjoy your evening, sir.” The big ape pulled back the curtain and motioned us in.
Even though the lights were set to a romantic dim it was bright enough to see that the doorman was just one of the changes they made since last I visited. The place had so much oak furniture it looked like they felled a forest, and the leather that accompanied it could fill out a very respectable stampede. The bar ran the entire length of the wall and was trimmed with gold, while the ceiling had inlaid ivory with that new polished sparkle. The place couldn’t have been more dripping with money if they had papered the walls with hundred dollar bills. Even the music, which now came from a full piece band, sounded expensive. I never felt out of place here in the old days, but now… when I said times had changed I didn’t know how right I was.
Franky navigated the room effortlessly though, tossing smiles and waves around like a beauty queen as he led us to a table so far back we may have changed zip codes. A pretty young doll pulled out my chair, and after we sat Franky ordered me a scotch and himself a mineral water.
“So how long has the Sindicate been running things here?” I asked.
“A year or so.”
I nodded. “Who’s the thug up front? I’ve got his exact tie at home, but I use it to hold up my pants.”
“That’s H-Eight, pronounced Hate.”
“H-Eight, as in Human Subject Eight? Did he go through the same process as Hone?”
“That’s correct. He’s a good kid, but has impulse control issues.” Franky smiled. “We’re working on them. Together.”
“But Hone has Biogradium wrapped around him, I didn’t see any on Gigantor.”
“He has twice as much, actually. But it’s all under the skin.”
“He’s got living liquid metal inside him?” Good thing he didn’t touch Lois. “Wait, I never heard of H-Two through Seven. What happened to them?”
Franky shrugged. “Hate.”
“Good to know.” We laughed a little, and it felt nice, like it always did with Franky, right before he got real.
“So what brings you to Henchmen’s? It’s been a long time, didn’t think I’d ever see you around here again, what with all of the remodeling.”
“Just want a drink. Catch up with some of the boys from the old days, maybe.”
“The boys?” Franky said. “The boys from the old days wouldn’t come in here, most of them can�
�t, so out with it, what’s your angle?”
“I’m looking for a girl.”
“Name?”
“Ms. Right, you heard of her?”
“In my opinion she’s only a legend.”
“You would know.”
He rolled his eyes. “A name. Please.”
I took a sip of my scotch. With a guy like Franky the truth might not go over well, but outright lying was always worse. “I’m here to meet Lynx. Are you expecting her?”
Franky sat up straight. His eyes got a lot wider. “Lynx? Ms. Lynx? You got to be kidding me Dane, when’d you jump to the big league?”
“I haven’t,” I said. “She used to come in back when this place was a bar. Does she still?”
Franky grinned like he knew something I didn’t. “Haven’t seen her in a while?”
“Not in person, no.”
“Well, she’ll be here, but you don’t have an appointment. I doubt she’ll talk to you.”
“I bet she will.”
“And if you can’t get near her you don’t anticipate causing any trouble?”
“Franky,” I said, “one of the benefits of being all thumbs is I know how to keep them out of the wrong eyes.”
He glanced down to where my artillery was hanging. “It’s not your thumbs I’m thinking of. But you just want to talk, that’s fine. Ms. Lynx… Ha.” Franky’s laugh blew out the table lamp, and he relit it with a small burst of black flame from his hand. “Dane, I’ve been running this club for over a year and so far I’ve never been surprised within its walls. You’ve impressed me, really, but if you step out of line it’s your funeral old friend, and I won’t be able to do a thing about it. She’s got all her old man’s powers, but none of his control. So good luck.” He made like he was getting up, but stopped. “Hey Dane, let me ask you, how come you never came over to the Sindicate, huh?”
“Not a fan of clubs,” I said, “too many rules.”
“But you never step out of line, never challenge the status quo. For someone like you it makes no sense to remain undeclared, especially considering what you have to gain. Fat steady paychecks, work you’re used to. We’re always on the lookout for sharp operators and aren’t you just a bag full of tacks. What’s really the issue? Is it that you don’t like us?”
“No, I don’t like you.”
Franky’s smile got a touch less legendary.
“But I don’t dislike you either. I’m freelancing. Like always.”
“Yeah, well things change.”
“So I noticed.” I looked around the room. “But not always for the better.”
Franky laughed though nothing was funny, then he called out to a passing waitress. “Excuse me, Marilyn, would you please bring Mr. Curse a bowl of peanuts. For nostalgia’s sake he’ll be throwing the shells on the floor, don’t clean them until he’s gone. He’ll also be switching from single malt to… we don’t carry Octane anymore so make it a domestic beer, the warmer and flatter the better. Reconsider your allegiance Dane, you’ll live longer.”
They walked off together leaving me alone in the dark, which suited us both.
#
It was still on the early side of the night, and while the place was steadily filling with black capes I was surprised at the number of regs that came in with them. There was a judge, an aide to the mayor, even a Senator, and I couldn’t help but think that Legend had a point—maybe I should come over to the dark side. They had powerful friends, and their friend’s friends had legs that made me look twice.
After about an hour of waiting the conversations died down. I scanned the room for the reason, and it wasn’t hard to find. Over at the entrance, flanked by two familiar thugs, was the dame I’d been waiting for. She was wearing a long, tight black dress that pushed her fun parts up like a vanilla soufflé, and it had a slit on the side high enough to let her thigh peek through to make a few promises it didn’t intend to keep. Below all that, on her two tiny feet, she had a pair of black heels so high the person who made them must’ve needed building permits, and the way she moved in all of it would make a jungle cat jealous. Yeah, she’s a full-grown woman now, but I remembered back when she started out, all fresh faced and coasting on her daddy’s name. Back then she was violent, wild, but now… It was almost too hard to believe the woman in Henchmen’s, and that sweet-as-pie girl on Pinnacle’s arm were one and the same; the savage Lynx, famous black cape, and Lynchpin’s favorite daughter.
There was already a chilled bottle of champagne at her table when she sat down, and before the waiter could pop its cork admirers were swinging by to pay their respects. She accepted some while others were rebuffed by the two guards at her side, and though it took a while the wave finally receded leaving her alone.
“Excuse me, Ms. Lynx?” I said. “May I have a word?”
“Get lost shamus. The lady don’t need no riff raff.” It was the thug on the left, Knuckles. He was the shortest guy in the room and as bald as a melon under his derby, but despite the diminutive stature he was a beast in a brawl thanks to the two giant metal hands he sported at the ends of his arms. They made fists the size of babies, and each knuckle packed a surprise.
His partner on the right, Smiley, couldn’t have looked more different. He was tall, with an eggplant-shaped body that was so soft and pliable it could absorb almost any physical attack without taking damage, like a well-oiled baseball glove. He also had a perpetual grin that was two sizes too big for his face, which he used to give me a hearty “Yeah, no riff raff.”
“Knuckles, Smiley,” I said, “I didn’t see you guys there. How you been?”
“Ah, you know Dane, been better been worse. How you doing?” Smiley asked in that way that makes you love him.
“Shut up, you,” Knuckles said to his friend. “Come on Dane, scram. You mess this up for us and we won’t like it.”
“Boys, please. Be polite. I apologize… Dane was it?” Lynx looked at me with curiosity. “These two can be a bit brusque, but they’re quite right. I’m terribly busy at the moment. Maybe you could come back some other time.”
“Sorry, but I need to ask you some questions.”
“About what, I wonder,” she said. “Make it interesting, I’m losing patience.”
“It’s about a fireman,” I said, leaning over the table. “Goes by the name of Waller. That interesting enough?”
Her face didn’t change. I saw no recognition, no sign of shock, but with the right kind of eyes you’d notice her twin sapphires lost some sparkle.
“You want we should walk him, ma’am?” Knuckles asked.
“No. Actually Mr. Curse and I will be taking the champagne in the back. Be so kind as to see it there.” She stood up, and taking my arm, led me through a throng of people who were busy wondering who I was and how I rated.
When we got to the back Lynx opened the door to a private room. Inside was a small table, surrounded by a circular booth with red leather cushions lining the walls all the way around. I stepped in, and when the door closed it was totally silent.
“Nice room,” I said, and turned around.
Lynx had on bright red nail polish, the type even a guy like me can tell is expensive, and I got a much closer look at it when she wrapped her hand around my throat, and lifted me off the ground.
Chapter 14
I twisted against her to no avail. She had a grip like a longshoreman. Though it wasn’t really her talons that had me. Like her dad, Lynx was a telekinetic, which meant she could lift heavy things with just the power of her mind, like me for example, by my neck.
“Who are you? Where is he?” Her voice was more frantic scream than expected.
I pulled Rico and loosed a double tap of stun rounds at her. Twin explosions rang out. The smell of gunpowder filled the room. But thanks to Lynx’s TK the bullets hung in the air motionless, like fresh fruit in Jell-O. Switching tactics I punched the crook of her elbow with my free hand.
She let go, dropping me to the ground.
I sp
rang forwards to put her in a bear hug. But Lynx thrust the heel of her palm into my nose. I flew back into the wall, cracking the wood there. My eyes watered. I shook my head once, then aimed Rico. She used her TK and ripped the gun from my grasp. Without my piece I didn’t have a choice. I threw a haymaker as hard as I could. She blocked it with an invisible shield, and hoisted me into the air again. This time though, it was just with the power of her mind. This time she stayed out of reach.
“Where is Benjy? Is he alright? Answer me!”
I twisted in the air, and said, “First put me down.”
“Put you down? I’ll put you down lowlife.” Lynx obliged by driving me head first through the sofa. “If you don’t tell me where my man is I’ll put you so deep the next person you meet will be a Chinese archaeologist, am I being clear?”
She fell on my chest, dug her knee into my sternum, and clamped down on my throat with both hands. Even though I couldn’t breathe in I managed to push out, “Crystal.”
“Then answer the question, where’s my sweet Benjy?”
“He’s… he’s dead.”
She tightened her grip. “Don’t lie to me, he can’t be killed. Where. Is. He?”
I couldn’t answer. Blackness seeped in from all sides. I knew I only had one chance. Pulling my knees in I put both feet against her chest. My legs exploded upward. Lynx flew off me, and into the wall.
Air rushed into my lungs like water through a boat’s busted hull. I got to my feet with hands raised. The room was still spinning. “Stop. I’m investigating his murder, for your father.”
Lynx stood up and stared at me. She took a half step, then stopped. Pressure pushed on every inch of my hide like I was sinking into an invisible ocean. “Lies,” she said, “Benjy is unstoppable. Unkillable.”
“I thought so too, but his body was found last night.”
“Why wasn’t I told?” she said through bared teeth.
“I don’t know. They just called me in, gave me the case.”
