“Right,” said Alex. “Griffin Industries.”
“No, not my company. The Company, spelled C-I-A. Someone named the Handler marched into my office one day without an appointment. The weirdest thing is I could never recognize him. I’m good with faces, but every time I saw him it was like looking at someone new.”
Stormhead said, “Why did he contact you?”
“For Project Cold Warrior. The goal was to make all-American cloned superheroes under their network of shell companies so the commies’ spies in the military wouldn’t know about it. He made it sound like a competitive offer between us and every company with a R&D department and a defense contract.”
“That is so messed up,” said Trista.
“That’s what I said. He told me to cooperate or they’d kidnap my researchers and make them work for the other companies. I got to tell you, the Handler is more ruthless than any those idiots in purple suits who rant about world domination.”
“At least you tried to reject it,” said Stormhead.
“I let the Handler do what he wanted with my people. We built a cloning facility to create blank bodies based on DNA supplied by another company. We were required to include the Griffin Industries logo on our creations to differentiate them from Alerion’s clones.”
“Wait,” said Alex. “Do we still have a cloning facility? We can use that to save Lady Amazing.”
“No, and you wouldn’t want to use it. The scientists mixed human DNA with parts from animals to make things with the strengths of both. They customized assassins to kill the Soviet’s creations. Some of the things that came out of the vats were completely inhuman. I don’t know why one company designed those things or what the next company did, but we did our part.
“And then, Handler said it was over. My employees dismantled the facility and sold off the machinery for scrap. It was over before seventy-six, I remember celebrating the bicentennial with a toast to forgetting Project Cold Warrior.”
“Why did it end?” asked Trista.
“The Russians lost control of their monster army. Those abominations went wild. It took the whole Commie army to destroy those things. Some are still hiding in the former Soviet states. And the CIA figured that could happen here. They could barely keep their program under wraps. Even with military-level security, every now and then one of those clones developed enough of a free will to escape.”
“The live ones,” said Alex.
“Yeah, that’s what the hunters called them. When the project ended, Sergeant Hammer said he and a few other government goons slaughtered every god-awful creation and incinerated their remains in a nuclear test.”
“Sergeant Hammer?” asked Trista.
“He did nasty stuff when he wasn’t a superhero. So did Charlene, but at a different time with the Air Force. Alex, if you heard the stories they told me, some of the shady shit they did on government orders, you wouldn’t blame me for being suspicious of the MAB. I assumed the whole legal recognition thing was another shady government scheme.”
“The ones on the island are too young to have been made in the seventies,” said Alex. “Could someone be using your technology again?”
“Doctor Hellgrun stole the blueprints and genetic codes to build his squid-man army on what’s now Griffin Island, but the Scientific Six dismantled everything. That being said, I have no idea what other companies are up to. It won’t be the first time my competitors stole my patents.”
“I’ll call the MAB and start an investigation,” said Alex.
“You don’t want to do that. The CIA started it, and I’ll bet my bottom dollar they’re still involved. They can barely keep track of what they’re doing, but they keep tabs on every other government agency. Best thing to do is destroy the evidence and pretend you didn’t see anything.”
“We should at least investigate,” said Stormhead.
Jim shook his head. “Sure, whatever, mister hero. Stick to your ideals. Ignore the guy who made more compromises than he can admit to and outlived almost all of his friends. It won’t bother me too much to see a few more die.”
“You tried to kill your enemies along with hundreds of innocent people,” said Alex. “My plan worked better than your Plan Failsafe.”
“Some wars you can’t win. They kept everything a secret for this long, they’ll kill to do it again. Take a look at your psychic sidekick. Can she kill? Can you let her die?”
Alex looked back at Trista. Trista bit her lip.
“You’re already in over your heads. Don’t go any deeper.” Jim stood with the help of his cane and walked to the door. “Next time, come earlier in the day.”
As they returned to the helicopter Alex said, “I don’t know what to do, but I’m not throwing anyone into the ocean.”
“Sadly, that advice is consistent with his leadership,” said Stormhead. “He created the Golden Gryphon battlesuit as an advertisement for his business. He only became a superhero to advertise the battlesuits, which no one wanted to buy because they each cost as much as a tank but are less useful.”
Trista said, “He was a fearless leader in the comics.”
“Are any of us like we are in the comics? He did not survive forty years of battles with supervillains by being audacious.”
“This makes me think about Quad-Clops,” said Alex. “He said all heroes do is keep the world from changing.”
“Maintaining the status quo was James’s goal, but I’m team leader now. I say we find out who is making monsters.”
“I wish Asura didn’t go bad,” said Alex. “We could use someone like him for intelligence gathering.”
“That scumbag betrayed us,” said Trista. “He would again.”
“Good point. I’ll think of a way to get the MAB’s help as confidentially as possible.”
Stormhead yawned. “It’s too late to plan. Perhaps we should go straight home.”
“The sheriff said Candilyn is not adjusting to prison life. I’ll make it quick.”
The helicopter landed in Poughkeepsie.
Stormhead snored loudly in the back.
Trista slept with her head on Alex’s shoulder. He shrugged to wake her. “We’re here.”
Trista slowly woke up. “I had the weirdest dream. I was in a city with a big statue of a man on a horse, red socks everywhere, old cemeteries, a clock tower …”
“New York girls shouldn’t dream about Boston.”
“Wait, what?”
“Red Sox. That’s Boston.”
“I’ve never been there, but everything felt familiar. Can you leave your smartphone? I want to look up some things.”
“Sure.”
A police car took Alex from the helipad to the county jail. After showing his badge a few times, he was in front of a holding cell.
Candilyn grinned. “Agent O’Farrell. About time you got here.” She tugged the zipper on her orange jumpsuit. “You missed me. You know you did.”
“You tried to kill someone?”
“Bashed in his head ‘cause I wanted him dead.”
“Why?”
“He sold meth to my step-brother.”
“So you’re guilty?”
“I sure as hell don’t feel guilty.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Jail food is worse than the rabbit food at Griffin Tower. Take me back.”
“I can’t do that. You’re responsible for what you did.”
Candilyn grabbed the bars. “So the little Italian bitch gets to commit crimes, but I don’t?”
“Trista spent almost two years in jail and for what she did under psychic manipulation. Unless you can prove you weren’t acting of your own free well, we’re done.”
“You’re going to leave me here?”
“That’s exactly what I’m going to do.”
“But you like me.” She puckered her lips.
“No, I don’t.”
Candilyn reached through the bars. “Help me, Agent O’Farrell. You’re my only hope.”
“Are you quoting Star Wars?”
“Yeah, but it’s true. My friends aren’t my friends anymore. They think I’ll rat them out for the stupid stuff they do.”
“What about your family?”
“They don’t have the money for bail. Mom and step-dad work all the time, step-brother can’t kick the meth, and my half-brother is retarded. I mean really retarded.”
“You committed a crime. You’re the legal system’s problem now. Don’t call me again.”
As Alex walked away Candilyn cried out, “Back in the hospital they said my healing factor can keep me young forever. When I get out of here, I’ll break every withered bone in your goat-killing body.”
Alex returned to the helicopter, where Trista flicked through his smartphone’s screen. “Is that Quad-Clops’s Wikipedia page?”
“I’m curious about him. I also looked up Boston on Google Images. That’s definitely the city in my dream. It must have come from when I read the assassin’s mind. It’s all jumbled, I can’t make sense it, but there are some other things I remembered.”
“What kinds of things?”
“Being immersed in bubbly water, a doctor in a black coat, and Swapper.”
“What’s Swapper?”
“Another Ultra-Genius. She could move a person’s consciousness from one body into another. She couldn’t do it for herself, which was sad because she was too obese to walk. She died of a heart attack while we were in prison. At least that’s what I was told. All I know is she didn’t come back from the medical ward.”
“So you saw her?”
“I felt her presence. It’s hard to describe, but it’s kind of like a lingering memory left from psychic involvement. I wish I knew more about her, but I never even learned her real name. If she’s involved, it’d explain how a man’s mind ended up in a girl’s body.”
“I want to investigate Alerion Incorporated, but at this point I don’t have any good questions or anything they can’t outright deny. Finding out more about the assassin could yield some clues. Want to go to Boston tomorrow? “
“I always wanted to go there. How’s Candilyn?”
“Headed up the river.”
“Poor girl.”
“I thought you two didn’t get along.”
“We were friends right after we moved into Griffin Tower. Her story about ending up in the monkey house at the zoo made me laugh until my ribs hurt.”
“How did she end up as your bully?”
“I didn’t tell anyone I was a villain. When Vijay found out, I guess by hacking, everyone thought I lied to them. I never said I wasn’t, I just didn’t say anything about my past.”
“That’s no excuse for her behavior.”
“I think about those early days a lot. Candilyn never really had anyone who believed in her. Even Lady Amazing got frustrated with her attitude and … lack of education.”
“Jenny called her stupid.”
“It’s not that things went wrong for her, I don’t think anything ever went right.”
Chapter Six: Jus Ad Bellum
Puca appeared on the roof of the Prudential Center with a loud pop. She pressed her bronze helmet’s mouthpiece.
“Ah’m in posishun. Ah kinnae clap dem yet.”
The tinny voice in her ear panels said, “Speak English, Colleen.”
Puca spoke slowly. “Right, Handler. I’m in position.”
“It’s not ‘Handler,’ it’s ‘the Handler.’”
Puca coughed. “Ah feel like shite.”
“No sick leave until the situation is under control. Do you have the MAB office in your sight?”
“Aye. I mean yes.”
“All of the computers in there are infested with our spyware. I can see that they’re researching a list of supervillains from this city. Wyckedblade is on that list.”
“How d’ya think they found him?”
“You didn’t recover his body.”
“Dat Pig-Girl body wasn’t Wyckedblade’s DNA.”
“At least you managed to destroy your old body.”
“An’ at least ya didn’t make me a pig-faced lass.”
“His ultra-reflexes were easier to replicate than your inherent teleportation ability. But even with the different DNA in the Pig-Girl body, they somehow got enough of a clue to go to his home city and download his file.”
“Do we have a man inside who kin listen in?”
“No. Look on the thirty-second story.”
Puca raised her binoculars. “I see a balding git and a little guinea skank.”
“That’s them. Read their lips.”
“Aye. He’s sayin’ ‘Jenny said Pig-Girl licked the blade first. That’s his trademark.’ She’s sayin’, ‘he had a rough life.’ Dis innae good.”
“They figured out who he is.”
“Shall I kill dem now? Ah kin plant a bomb.”
“Sure. Blow up two people in a government office. That won’t look even slightly suspicious.”
“Ye ain’t talkin’ straight, are you?”
“Bear with me. It’s hard being a master of intelligence in a world of rampant stupidity.”
“Dat’s a no, right?”
“If you were the best the IRA had, no wonder Ulster is still England.”
“Sod off.”
“Slick Shadow and Malone are on their way. They’ll handle this”
“My bomb will make less noise than those wankers.”
“Your bomb will also kill both targets. I want one of them alive.”
In the MAB office, Trista said, “He had a rough life. And four-foot-eleven? He was shorter than me.”
“But inhumanely fast,” said Alex. “In the videos, he’s like the Tasmanian Devil with knives.”
“Wasn’t his blade sprouting suit in Griffin Tower’s research lab?”
Alex nodded. “If he lost a knife, a new one sprouted out. He could also throw them with amazing accuracy.”
“He’d lick the blades? Gross.”
“There’s something else you should see. Look at this.” Alex tapped a few buttons. “He filed a sexual assault complaint against Sergeant Hammer. Three days later, he’s dead. The complaint wasn’t forwarded to me.”
“Who took the complaint?”
“Agent Roland Breugnon. He oversees Boston’s superheroes.”
“Boston has superheroes?”
“There’s one main guy called the Midnight Rider, an ultra-athlete and genius, and he’s got a few sidekicks. They’re the official MAB-supervised team. And there are a few unsupervised wannabes running around too.”
“Why would anyone choose to be supervised?”
“To get support from the local police and MAB. They don’t get arrested if they do more good than harm. In turn, we make sure they don’t violate innocent people’s civil rights while saving the day. The legally unrecognized vigilantes have what they have and have to deal with the consequences of breaking laws.”
“Kind of like Candilyn does, right?”
“She almost killed someone. I won’t be her ‘Get Out of Jail Free’ card.”
Trista tugged her rosary. “I’m still worried about her.”
“You brought your grandmother’s rosary?”
“With the way things have been going, I don’t feel safe without it.”
Alex’s smartphone rang. “Agent O’Farrell.”
Magna’s voice sounded human over the phone. “Hello, Agent. I’m calling to let you know my research into Alerion Incorporated has come to a dead end. Everyone involved in their project has either died or disappeared years ago, and all information relating to their involvement with Project Cold Warrior has disappeared from their databases. Stormhead says we know no more now than we knew last night.”
“Thanks for looking anyway. We identified the assassin.”
“Who was he?”
“Willard McHattie, a short punk from South Boston, nom-de-crime Wyckedblade. He graduated from reform schools as a fast and dirty knife figh
ter. Most of his victims were up-and-coming superheroes, but there are a couple of recognizable names in his rap sheet. Now we have to figure out how we went from a dead man’s body in Boston to a dead mutant girl in one year.”
“What do you plan to do next?”
“I’m going keep trying to get in touch with Agent Breugnon and visit some places associated with Wyckedblade. That might jog Trista’s absorbed memories. After that, it’s back to the chopper. I have to get home tonight. Emily was understanding about me working late last night, but I can’t push my luck.”
“Very good. I will attempt to research the CIA through external sources without drawing their attention to any hacking attempts. I hope we’ll have something to tell you when you return.”
“Thanks, Mindy.”
“I am Magna. Mindy is dead.”
“Sorry. You sound just like her over the phone.”
“You never need to apologize to a robot.” The call ended.
On the roof of Prudential Center, the rabbit-ear antennas in Puca’s helmet picked up every word of Alex’s conversation with Magna until she had another coughing fit.
She looked at her fingers. “Ah, hell, is dat blood?”
The Handler asked, “How long ago did we put your mind in that new body?”
“Almost five years.”
“I’ll have Doctor Hellgrun’s assistant give you a checkup when you get back. Luckily for you, I’m also intercepting Agent O’Farrell’s phone conversations.”
“Ye heard dat, aye? His buddies know too.”
“I expected this. I have contingency plans for the New York Guardians.”
“Are ya gonna bring in Doctor Hellgrun’s monsters?”
“Yes.”
“Why not just drop a nuke on the island and kill dem all? You kin do that, right?”
“That would bring way too much attention. It’d be better to put them on the defensive so they stop investigating until the trail is cold.”
“But what about these two?”
“They’re your target. Flayer will make sure Agent O’Farrell’s helicopter doesn’t take off tonight and I’ll make sure Agent Breugnon isn’t available to return his call because he’ll have a surprise visitor, an actor I have on retainer.”
The Prospects (Book 2): Nothing Poorer Than Gods Page 6
