by Matt Abraham
“Really? I can’t imagine why.”
“Well, before we proceed let’s take care of that.” He pressed a button on the comms unit that sat on the table between us. “Skip, come in here please.”
A clean cut kid no older than twenty-two appeared from the side door looking like he stepped out of a sailboat catalogue. “This is Skip, my PA. He’ll help you. Skip, Mr. Curse here has a concussion, if you will?”
“Of course, sir.” Skip moved behind me, and put his hands on either side of my head. The left one was fine, but the right was missing half a pinky. “Don’t worry sir,” he said, “this won’t hurt at all.”
My head started to tingle. Then the lights got brighter, and the throbbing in my chin stopped. Even that lump Hoarfrost put on the back of my noggin was gone. “Thanks Skip,” I said, “I think that did the trick.”
“My pleasure. Is there anything else you require, sir?”
“That will be all,” Lynchpin said, “thank you.”
Skip left, and I turned to Lynchpin. “Not that I’m unimpressed, but what kind of healer can’t fix his own finger?”
“Skip’s no healer, but presuming so is not an uncommon mistake. His real talent is far more elegant, and rare. He accelerates objects through time.”
“Really, that’s possible?”
“Relatively speaking. I found him working in the agricultural sector for some farmers who used his power to speed their crop’s production, and proposed a better offer. They were loathe to part with the lad, but even though I’ve moved the Sindicate in more legitimate directions our recruitment techniques can still be quite aggressive.”
“Wait,” I said. “I healed myself then.”
“Yes, in a way.”
“Huh. That’s a pretty neat trick, moving something through time,” I said. Then it occurred to me, “So my head is older than my body now?”
Lynchpin looked amused. “Yes, very good Mr. Curse, your head and all that it contains is older than the rest of the cells beneath it, but only by a few hours.”
“And that’s ok?”
“Probably.”
I took another sip. “I find your concern overwhelming.”
He waved my fears away. “Courage. It’ll be fine. So Dane, now that you’re feeling one hundred percent let’s get to the point of this meeting. How is my investigation progressing?”
There are times when you share all the information with your client. This didn’t feel like one of them. “The investigation? It’s been almost a full day and I don’t think I’ve got much done.”
Lynchpin nodded. “Be more specific.”
“Ok. I ran down some leads, but nothing’s gotten me any closer to finding out what happened.”
“Do you have any theories I should hear?”
“No. Right now all I have are hypotheses.”
He leaned in, and passed his hand over the table like he was displaying it. “Well then, lay them on me.”
I fiddled with my drink, watching the ice cubes fight it out in the crystal. “I don’t like speaking until I know for certain.”
Lynchpin put a finger to his lips as he stared at me. “Dane, follow me.” He stood up, and led me to the window. “What do you see?”
I looked out and saw lights sparkling far below. Bittenbach Bay was black and calm, and the ocean beyond took up most of the horizon. This high up even the green peaks to the south were visible. I said, “Gold Coast City.”
“Anything in particular?”
I shook my head.
“We’re in the Mountains. After Top Tower they’re the five most heavily-fortified, well-built, and tallest skyscrapers in the city.”
I didn’t say but I’ve been in love with the Mountains since they were built. Each of the five towers took up an entire city block, and were connected to one another by tunnels above and below ground. They were covered with a white, translucent honeycombing that gave them a beautiful, futuristic feel, and if the rumors were true, also served to reinforce them against attack. “I can see that.”
“Good.” Lynchpin pointed north. “Can you see over there? That’s where Professor Varius flies his fortress. Right there is the blogger Fangirl’s home, which doubles as her retail store. While there, there, and there are three of the apartments you visited today. Do you understand?”
“No.”
“Then I’ll put it another way: I see everything that happens in this city. I know what you did today, and whom you saw. What I don’t know is what your detective’s mind is thinking. I have many talents, but admittedly the importance of certain minutia, and how they piece together, can sometimes escape me. It is in this area, specifically, that I wish enlightenment.” He took a step into my personal space, and looked me in the eye. “So the time has come inspector. Illuminate me.”
I looked out the window, and all the way down to the street below. It was one hell of a drop. It was then that I decided to give an accurate report. From Varius straight through to the beating I told him everything. Or almost everything. There was no reason to bring the Waller family into this so I kept Pinnacle’s identity, along with the letters I pocketed in his secret room to myself, giving Fangirl the credit for the discovery of his and Lynx’s relationship.
Lynchpin said, “Very good, that’s much better. So what’s your next move?”
“Well,” I said, and sat back down on the couch. “I’d like to ask you a few questions.”
“Really?” He sat across from me. “I’m not a suspect, am I?”
I leveled my gaze at Lynchpin and said, “Everyone’s a suspect.” In my head. Out loud I told him, “Of course not.”
“Well then, ask away.”
“When I mentioned your daughter and Pinnacle you didn’t react. How long have you known they were an item?”
“From the beginning. My men told me.”
“They did? Knuckles and Smiley?”
“Yes, those two are extremely loyal. I was notified the moment Pinnacle made contact on top of Coradoba Tower. Initially I suspected it was Team Supreme attempting to infiltrate us, so I kept close tabs. But that was before I realized the relationship was of a sincere, romantic nature.”
“And it didn’t bother you?”
“No, why ever would it?”
“Because in high school Pinnacle was voted most likely to put you in jail,” I said, “and now he’s dating your daughter.”
That got another laugh. “Dane, do you have any children?”
The question was complex, but it had a simple answer. “No.”
“Really, not one? I have seven in all.”
“Congratulations.”
“Don’t congratulate me. Anyone with working genitals can spawn life. And besides,” he shook his head. “They’re not all worthy of celebration. You remember Spitfire?”
I stifled a shiver. “Not many can forget him. He was one wild black cape.”
“Yes, though a more accurate term for him would be mass murderer. He was a terrible influence on my family, and our organization. The SPECs would have put him in Impenetron for life. I’m glad I got to him first.”
My face dropped. “So that story’s true?” Hard to believe a parent could ice his own kid.
“Those stories always are,” Lynchpin said, “but I have others. Keystone and Conspire show promise, but Lynx is the clear alpha. She’s like me, intelligent, driven, and almost as powerful. Which reminds me, how’s your neck?”
I rubbed the spot she used to nearly squeeze the life out of me. “It’s alright.”
“May I ask, when she lifted you did she use her hands?”
“Yeah, they’re small but very determined. Why?”
Lynchpin nodded. “It’s nothing. Some telekinetics prefer to get physical when they use their powers. The contact functions as a sort of crutch.” He looked through me, and stayed quiet for a few moments before saying, “But no matter, she has potential. She may even be ready for leadership of the board. Some day.”
“You don’t t
hink her being with Pinnacle might change that?” I asked.
“No, if anything it’s made it better.”
“How so?”
“Since this new relationship began she’s been far more focused, mature. Her love for him has been a positive influence, and it’s shown in everything from her attitude to her work.”
“You have to forgive me, but don’t you think that he could’ve talked her out of the life? Or worse, into donning,” I added air quotes, “the white cape.”
“That would never happen.”
I believed his sincerity, but there was still one thing I bet he didn’t think through. “What if they had children?”
“If I discovered she was pregnant right now I’d be very pleased. Imagine his powers in a grandchild who would one day lead the Sindicate.” He let out the kind of sigh that could fill a zeppelin.
“But Lynx said you didn’t know about them.”
“I would have been delighted to give the union my blessing, but she’s still young and can sometimes be… spiteful. Thus I believed it prudent to give the relationship room to grow.”
“And why not tell her about his death?”
“I wanted to put off her pain as long as possible. Foolish. And shortsighted. But I love my daughter, I’d rather have her spared the sadness, even if it was only temporary.”
I nodded. It all made sense. Just not the type I was expecting. I was chewing it over when we were interrupted by someone coming in through the side door. He had a pointy nose that made him look like a rat. “Sir, there’s a call about the expansion, I was- oh, I wasn’t aware you had a meeting.”
“That’s ok Robert, what is it?”
“The Japanese liaison is waiting on the comm. What should I tell him?”
“Excuse me Dane, I must take this.”
He left me alone, and I walked to the window to gaze out across the city. I could’ve stood there for days, but Lynchpin returned in less time than that. “Sorry Dane, I’m afraid I must end our discussion. Let me show you out.” He led me to the office’s front door. “You’re off to a good start, but I want you to move faster. Uncertainty can be very damaging to organizations like mine, especially now. I want this affair settled before-”
“I know,” I said, “before war breaks out in Gold Coast.”
“Gold Coast?” Lynchpin stopped, and turned to me. “You think this is a Gold Coast problem?”
“Well, yeah.”
“Oh no, this is much larger. In fact, when Pinnacle’s body is discovered every major city in the world will be under siege by white capes. This war you so casually mention, it will start here, but it won’t be contained.”
That was something I hadn’t considered. Black capes and white, fighting each other across the planet. “It’ll be genocide.”
Lynchpin put a hand on my shoulder. “Not as bad as all that. Massacre would be a better term. The Sindicate will fare better than most, but the other black cape families of the world, they may try to give as good as they get, but in the end …”
I stood there thinking about how many capes would die. How many regs? A hundred thousand? A million? Ten million? No wonder the bonus was so big.
“We’ll finish this tomorrow. You’ll come by my home at eight pm to make your next report. I’m having a party and believe that some in attendance know more about this business than they’ve so far admitted. I’d like you to see what you can see.”
“Sure thing.” I opened the door and headed to the elevator.
“And Dane, I don’t know how you plan to question Director Humphries about his letter, or how you’ll discover who wrote that death threat, but I expect both to be done when next we meet.”
I reached into my pocket. The papers were still there. I opened my mouth to object, but Lynchpin had already closed the door.
Chapter 17
Since I was forced to leave Jane outside of Henchmen’s Lynchpin was good enough to send me home in one of his cars, along with the promise that she would be delivered the next day after the damage his men did was undone. When I got back I called Widow to see if I had any messages.
“Where have you been?”
“I was having a drink with Lynchpin,” I said.
“Ha ha. Seriously, where were you?”
“With Lynchpin. We talked family, business… Nice guy. Taller than you think.”
“Fine. Don’t tell me. But if you carried a cell phone it would save my fingernails a lot of biting.”
“Got a comms in the car and a phone in the house. That’s enough.”
Widow took a couple of deep breaths. “Dane, is everything ok?”
“Why do you ask?”
“It’s nothing. Just a feeling. You usually tell me everything, but now I’m cooling my heels in the shade, and I know you got your reasons, but if you were inclined to act the gentleman and alleviate said concern all you’d have to say is ‘Sure Widow, I’m in it, but it’s not over my head.’ That would be enough. Say that and I’ll believe you.”
“Sure thing,” I said, “I’m in it, but it’s not over my head.”
“I don’t believe you. Now go eat something.” She hung up the phone.
That was good advice, so I went to the kitchen, fried up a steak with some eggs, and washed it all down with a couple of beers. It was a big meal, but it wasn’t the reason I was feeling so heavy. One full day down and I was still closer to disaster than an answer.
It wasn’t a comfortable thought to sleep on.
#
The next morning I was up before the sun, and the first thing I did was put on a pot of coffee. Then I shaved, showered, and threw on a black suit so fast I was ready before it was done brewing. And since one of the benefits of being invulnerable is that your mouth doesn’t scald so easy, I pounded every drop of java before it cooled a single degree, and ran out the door.
I found Jane waiting for me right outside my stoop, and as promised Lynchpin’s boys had given her a wash, a wax, and buffed out the dent I made with Bruizer’s body. I hopped in and took my jacket off, careful not to crease it, then placed it on the passenger’s seat. I was about to put the key into the ignition, but stopped. It occurred to me that Lynchpin knew a lot about my movements yesterday, and since I didn’t see a tail it meant he had to be using technology.
I pulled my hand scanner out and set it to look for any waves emanating from Jane, and sure enough there were three bugs letting out a silent scream. One was in the glove box, another under my seat, and the last sat behind the back bumper. I plucked each one off, and tossed them in a nearby trashcan, then got back in and hit the ignition. Jane started purring like a lion cub with a belly full of zebra, sounding more excited than I was to go kidnap Marc Humphries, the head of the SPECs. That was probably because if we got caught she wouldn’t be the one spending the next decade eating powdered eggs and showering in groups.
The director lived in the Foothills, a nice area on the south side of town with sprawling, perfectly coifed lawns, and high stone fences. It’s quiet and very beautiful, but the best part? There’s only one road that connects it to the city proper, and I was parked right on it, waiting for the black sedan with SPEC plates that picks Humphries up every morning. My plan was to take its place, snatch the director, and ask him some questions.
Stopping the car was simple enough. I just stepped out in front of it, and threw my shoulder into the grill. Its front crumpled around my body. The impact shoved me back a few feet. And when we came to a stop I was standing where its engine used to be. Quick as I could I pushed the car behind some high bushes on the side of the road, and checked on the driver. He was unconscious, but alive, thanks to the air bags, so I tossed him in the trunk sans hat, shades, and wallet, then poked a few breathing holes through the metal to keep him fresh.
I slipped on my black jacket, along with the driver’s accessories, and caught my reflection in the window. Staring back was the spitting image of a chauffeur. I hopped into Jane, flipped a few switches on the dash, and
her exterior shifted around until she looked so much like the black sedan I just pulverized that even the factory couldn’t tell them apart. She even had the same plates.
Then I headed to Humphries’ house.
The guard outside waved me through the gate without a second look. I pulled up to the entrance, hopped out, and took my place next to the rear door, ramrod straight. Almost immediately a voice called out, “Director Humphries, your car has arrived.” I looked up to see a young man motioning toward me. I put on a big grin.
“I can see that Jonstone.” Marc Humphries came out of his house at full speed. He was wearing a black suit with a pair of perfectly polished shoes, and his white hair was high and tight. On the news he always looked like an owl, but the way he took those stairs was more akin to a hawk. “You’re late,” he said as he leapt into the car.
Young Jonstone, trailing a step behind, handed me a briefcase without a word before returning to the house. I closed the rear door, and brought it up front with me.
And that was that.
“Let’s go,” Humphries said.
“Right away, sir.” I pulled onto the main road, and made my way back to the city a hair under the speed limit. After a few minutes I stole a quick glance at the old man through the rearview mirror. He was staring out the window, nibbling at his thumb. The facial expressions I saw made it look like he was running a vigorous game of chess in his head.
After a few seconds he noticed my staring. Then he passed his gaze around the car before returning it to me. “Who are you?”
“I’m Bob, sir.”
“Bob who?”
“Kane.”
“Bob Kane?”
“That’s right.”
His eyes narrowed. “Where’s Filo?”
“Filo, sir?” I slipped the driver’s wallet out, and gave the ID a downward glance. The name on it was Jeff Long. “Who’s that?”
The old man said, “My regular driver.”
“Don’t know a Filo, sir. Central mentioned that Jeff was sick with the flu, and that I was to fill in. Though if you like, I can contact them regarding Filo.”
