by Matt Abraham
“Hem that up,” Swamp said.
Vec stopped, and looked at his boss.
“Dane, before this gets messy why don’t you tell me why you’re here.”
I kept my piece on Vec, but put my eyes on Swamp. “It’s about Thermite and Firewall. They-”
“I got a TV.” Swamp’s skin turned a light shade of green. “They killed each other trying to steal the Coconut.”
“Yeah,” I said, “next to hardware you sold them.”
Vec snickered. “Who says?”
“Me. I do. Now start talking, or I’ll blast you through that back wall and leave a hole so big that when the Feds, cops, and city inspectors arrive to investigate, they’ll have no trouble finding whatever illegal gear you got stashed downstairs.” I clicked Lois to scatter shot.
All of a sudden Vec’s arrogance was gone. He looked at Swamp.
Swamp looked at me. “Ok. They’re both dead so who cares, right? About a week ago I sold them one spool of fiber optic filament, and a canister for a grade nine liquid substance.”
“Grade nine?” I said. “That’s some potent stew. What were they hauling?”
“How should we know?” Vec said. “Those type of chemicals require special storage tanks. You see any around here?”
Swamp said, “We sold the thermos, not the cola. You know I don’t deal in chems, they’re not something my clientele go in for.”
That was true, actually. “So where’d they fill it up?”
Swamp shrugged. “When you spend as much as they did, I don’t ask questions.”
“Fine. Was there anyone else with them when they picked up the goods? A friend maybe?”
“A friend?” Vec said.
Swamp laughed. “I don’t think those two were interested in a third man.”
I looked back and forth between the pair. And slipped Lois back into her holster. “Fine.”
Both men relaxed.
“But know this,” I said, “if you’re lying to me I’ll find out. And then I’m going to have to come back and do bad things to both of you.”
Vec said, “So we got nothing to worry about.”
“We’ll see.” I turned to leave. Because what they said jibed. While Swamp provided that canister the boys must’ve filled it someplace else, and I’d know where after tonight’s trip to the morgue.
But when I got to the top of the stairs I paused. There was a girl on the dance floor coming my way. She had on knee high boots, a black dress that would have to do some growing up before it could pass as a napkin, and every inch of the too much skin she showed was covered in tattoos. As she walked her thick hair flowed behind her like black fire, and I could feel the heat from where I was standing.
She glided up the steps, passed by me without a glance, and threw her arms around Swamp. “Do I really have to go to the meet tonight alone?”
“Not now, kitten.” Swamp motioned at me. “We got company.”
The girl turned my way. And went statue still. “What’s he doing here?”
I had on a smile. The dewy kind. “Hey Doodle, you look great.”
“Doodle?” Swamp said. “Who’s Doodle?”
She rolled her eyes. “It’s Sketch now. Nobody calls me Doodle anymore, Dane.”
“Really?” I said. “Dane?”
“Yeah. You don’t expect me to call you Dad, do you?”
Chapter 7
The last time I saw Doodle she was about as big as a baby bird. Now she looked a lot more like her mother. And not in the eyes, nose, and chin way. It was her stance. The attitude. That hard soft skin around her pout.
“I’m not expecting it,” I said, “but Dad would be nice.”
“Wait, hold up,” Swamp said. “Dane’s your father?”
“Yes,” I said.
“No.” Doodle crossed her arms. “Mom said-”
“Tera says lots of things. Most of it’s not true.”
“Don’t talk about her that way.”
“Why?” I looked around. “Is she here?”
“Somewhere,” Doodle said. “Why are you?”
“I’m getting some information, but now that I’m done maybe we can talk?”
“Information?” she said.
“Yeah, I’m a detective.”
Doodle laughed. “That’s pathetic.”
“Hey baby,” Swamp said. “Your old man wants to catch up, why don’t you take him outside for a chat?”
Doodle looked at him, then me. “Fine. That ok with you, Dane?”
I smiled. Again it was the dewy kind. “That’s great.”
She led me down the steps and across the floor, but when we neared the exit a woman with a heavy Filipino accent said, “What’re you doing here?”
I turned around. It was my ex, Tera. She was five-foot four with skin as brown and warm as a cup of coffee. The light green dress she wore made the curves running around her look like rolling hills, and I couldn’t help but notice that all their peaks still pointed up. “Get out of here,” she said.
“I was doing just that. Let’s go, Doodle.”
“No.” Tera jumped in front of me and shoved a finger in my face. “She stays here. We have work.”
“Pipe down, I just want a word.” I grabbed Tera’s shoulder, and light touched her aside, but she managed to find the floor just the same.
“My arm,” Tera yelled from her back. “You bastard.”
Doodle said, “Mom.”
I rolled my eyes. “Aw cripes.”
Tera made a big deal of getting to her feet. “Did you see that? He shoved me.”
“You fell on purpose,” I said.
“You were always like this,” Tera said.
“Sketch,” Swamp called from up high on the platform. “Outside.”
She took my arm. “Right. Let’s go talk. Unless you don’t want to.”
“No, I do.” I let her pull me away, and once we got outside I said, “So how long you been in town for?”
“A couple of weeks.”
“A couple?” That hurt. “Why didn’t you call?”
“Don’t have your number.”
I pulled out my card and a pen, jotted down my home line, and handed it to her. “Here. Now you do.”
Doodle shoved it in her pocket. “Thanks.”
“Sure. How long are you sticking around for?”
“Until the… I don’t know. We’re on vacation.”
“Yeah, right. Tera said work, what’s she got you doing?”
“Nothing I don’t want to do myself.”
“Jeezus, you’re seventeen. You should be in school. This is-”
“What I want,” Doodle said. She crossed her arms and stared up at me. Her eyes were so full of anger. But I wasn’t seeing Tera.
This time it was like looking in a mirror.
So I softened my tone. “Alright. This obviously isn’t a good time, but maybe later we can get together, while you’re still around?”
“Sure,” she said. “Tomorrow.”
Each chamber of my normally hard heart inflated. “Really?”
“I don’t know. I’ll call you.”
“You promise?”
“Yeah, I promise. I’ll talk to you then. Goodbye.” She slid me a casual wave and walked back inside.
I got in my car. And heaved a mighty sigh. I didn’t know what was worse, that I missed all those years of Doodle growing up, or that she was obviously running jobs with her mom. Either way I swore right then to get her out of the life and on the right track.
But as I started up the car I realized how hypocritical a thought that was.
After all, I was about to go pull half a heist myself.
Chapter 8
The sun was way below the horizon when I hunkered down behind the thick bank of trees that sat fifty yards from the Gold Coast City Museum’s rear entrance. My black overcoat was doing a fine job of keeping me hidden, but I also had on my old mask. It only went around my eyes, but that would be enough to fool the dozen wall mou
nted cameras that were staring down on the parking lot between me and the building, if I was dumb enough to get seen. Each one was shaking its head at a different pace, which was going to make this tricky. I had to wait for them to find a rhythm, and all look away together. It was tedious. But necessary. If I got pinched inside these walls I’d be locked up in Impenetron for years. Unless it was Al Mighty who did the pinching. Then I’d be buried under Ayers Hill, with nothing but a John Doe carved into my headstone.
So I waited. Twenty minutes. Until finally every security camera turned inward. And then swiveled away in near perfect unison.
Exploding from my cover I sprinted across the lot. I pumped my arms hard. And opened my stride. But by the time I made it halfway a few of the one eyed vultures were already turning back.
So I ran harder. Hitting the wall without slowing down I used the gaps between the massive stones as handholds and climbed. I got to the top in seconds, and slipped over the ledge. There I waited. Five more minutes passed. And I was still alone.
It was time to get moving.
I started my onsite investigation by studying the short wall that ran around the roof, looking for any scratches or holes. But there were none.
Interesting.
I made a note of it, and walked to the ventilation access hatch. It was sealed with an impressive lock. Reaching into my pocket I removed my pick, and slid it into the keyhole. I fished the thin shiv side-to-side, all with Carl’s voice in my head saying, “Learn to use this. Muscle isn’t an all-purpose tool.”
I know Carl. You’ve mentioned.
After a minute the first tumbler clicked into place. Thirty seconds later and another joined it. Then, after what felt like forever, I twisted the pick, and it snapped in half.
Which was the same thing that happened the night before when I tried to retrieve Toby Teenie’s pictures from the safe. So like then I ignored Carl’s advice, and ripped the door off its hinges revealing a dark shaft that ran straight down. Pulling out my hand scanner I clicked on its light, and slid in face first, pushing both elbows against the vent’s sides hard enough to slow my going. After descending thirty feet the tunnel forked in two directions. I turned west, and crawled until I reached the Amphibia Theatre access tube.
There the vent dipped down, then turned and ran parallel over the model orca’s back before ending at the grate. I slid down. And the vent’s metal bottom made a resounding boom as it bent and shook from my weight. Gently, I slid forward. The shaking slowed, but the next section of vent made the same loud noise. I don’t know how it sounded on the floor below, but inside the duct it was like cannon shot. And I wondered if it would hold me. Let alone three guys.
Still though, I slid forward to the end of the tunnel. Below the grate was the hanging whale, a forty-foot drop, and that glass floor protected ecosystem full of glowing bioluminescent algae.
Ignoring all that I turned the light, and my attention, to the grate’s edges.
And I couldn’t believe it. Just like the roof there wasn’t a scuff. And that wasn’t just interesting, it was impossible. Sure, the boys may’ve climbed the outer wall like I did, but the rope they used to get down from here required an anchor, like a hook or a magnet, and those leave marks.
I don’t know if Widow was right, but something smelled wrong about this job. And I was in a vent that delivered fresh air. But I couldn’t learn anything more by hanging around, so it was time to vanish.
I inched backwards. And the Amphibia Theatre’s lights clicked on.
Looking through the grate I saw ten men with rifles and black riot armor charge into the room and fan out over the glass floor in formation, like the SWAT team’s older, meaner brother.
“Team leader,” a radio squawked, “do you have eyes on the intruder?”
“No eyes yet,” one of them said. “We know you’re here. Come out with your hands up.”
“Where is he?”
“The room’s empty.”
“No.” This voice was calm. And certain. “He’s here alright.”
“Where?”
My breathing turned shallow. But I wasn’t concerned. There were no motion sensors in here. No alarms. They could search this room all day and never find me.
Then one said, “Look up, he’s in the vents.”
All ten turned their rifles upward and fired. Bullets punched a hundred holes through the metal around me. A few hit my chest. More clipped my thighs. All of them bit deep, but my hide stayed intact.
“That’s enough,” their commander said, “cease fire.”
And they stopped the assault.
“Did we get him?”
“Is there blood?”
All around me the vent was filled with holes. Thin beams of light stabbed through them. I looked back. Beyond my feet the duct ran about two meters before it turned up and disappeared into the ceiling. If I was fast enough I could-
“Focus your fire where the vent meets the ceiling.”
No.
Again the bullets flew, only this time each slug was concentrated at a spot one yard behind me. They chewed a sloppy line through the shaft’s four sides. Even over the gunfire I could hear the vent groan. And buckle. Then it tore free from the ceiling.
I slipped out the open end and fell all forty feet, hitting the glass floor face first. But I scrambled upright, only the storm troopers already had their rifles aimed my way. The closest man’s barrel was an inch from my eye. “Don’t move,” he said, “or I’ll put one into your skull.”
I froze, and stared down the black hole.
“Yeah. That’s right, invulnerable. We know your weakness.”
Chapter 9
The guy was right. My skin’s harder to get through than Advanced Latin, but neither eye would stop a slug. And the lids that protected them offered less protection than you’d think. So I put my hands up. “Don’t shoot. Please.”
“Smart.” He pushed a finger into his ear. “Central, this is Commander Waters, we’ve apprehended an invulnerable black cape. Request immediate dragon wagon for one.”
The radio barked, “One wagon en route. Good work, commander.”
He popped his visor. But kept the rifle aimed at my left orb. “Now we wait. In the meantime you want to tell me your name?”
“Puddin Tame,” I said.
Waters smirked. “We’ll find out soon enough.”
He was right. We would. If I hung out. Instead, I snapped my face to the side.
Waters blasted away. His bullet struck my temple. The rest of the team joined in and their slugs hit my head and neck. With one hand I covered my open eyes. With the other I grabbed Waters’ rifle, and pulled it to me. The commander came with.
As he stumbled I slipped my arm beneath his chin, spun him around, and held his back tight against my chest like a human shield.
And the gunfire stopped.
I peered over my new friend’s shoulder.
His men were all at the ready, aiming their weapons our way.
“Hold your fire,” Waters said.
“Didn’t expect this invulnerable to have super strength, did you?” I dragged him back one step.
The nearest gunman barked, “Stay where you are.”
“Ok.” I moved my head to Waters’ other side. And took another step.
“Hey,” the trooper said. “Don’t do that again.”
“Sure thing.” I shuffled back some more. And hit the wall.
Waters said over his shoulder, “Run out of road, strongman?”
I looked down. He was right. Both my feet were on the floor’s marble perimeter. I said, “All part of the plan.” Lifting one knee up I took a sharp breath, and stomped down hard. My heel struck the floor and it completely shattered, sending up the smell of old gym socks as all nine cops were swallowed by the green stew below. As they splashed down the bioluminescent algae exploded, filling the room with bright blue, yellow, and red sparks.
I shoved Waters into the soup, and then with my back tight against
the wall, I shimmied towards the window on the right. When I got there I leapt up, grabbed its iron bars, and climbed them like a ladder.
Below me Waters cried, “Bring him down.”
And more bullets flew. Some hit the wall. Others cracked the glass.
Despite the heavy fire I reached the top in seconds, putting the model orca’s tail ten feet behind me. Then I bent my knees. And sprang backwards. Twisting through the air I reached towards the tip of the great mammal’s tail. But bullets ripped big, black chunks from my target. And those tiny harpoons tore every bit of fake skin and blubber off, leaving only the metal support cable behind, which swayed as it dangled.
Stretching out I opened my hand. And grabbed the thin, metal wire. But the bullets kept flying as I swung back and forth like bait on a hook. So I scurried up the cable, jumped onto the portion of orca back that still remained, and scrambled up the wounded beast’s spine.
When I got to the vent, now just a hole in the ceiling, I jumped up into it, and punched my fingers through the metal, making a pair of handholds. And just like that, hand-over-hand, I clambered skywards like a mole with its tail on fire.
When I reached the rooftop I spilled out onto the gravel. Getting up I looked around for Al Mighty.
But there were no white capes waiting. It was all clear. I moved towards the ledge.
And a deep voice said, “Nice night, huh?”
“Al?” My guts dropped and I spun around.
“Wrong again.” It was the blond cop that rousted me earlier. And his pistol was pointed right at me.
Chapter 10
“What’re you doing up here?” I said.
“Don’t worry about it. Now put these on.” He pulled a set of cuffs off his belt and threw them over.
The bracelets sailed past me, and landed on the roof.
“Very funny,” he said. “Pick them up.”
I didn’t break eye contact. “No.”
He clicked the hammer back on his piece. “I can always shoot you instead.”
“With a pistol?”
