The Coconut Swindle (Black Cape Case Files Book 2)

by Matt Abraham

  “Yes you did,” I said, and took a step towards Scourge.

  He said. “That’s far enough.”

  “What?” I held out the fake diamond. “Don’t you want your candy?”

  He had the kind of smile that would shame a wolf. “Frankly, I didn’t think you’d get it. Tera must’ve put up one hell of a fight. How’d you find her?”

  “I’m a detective,” I said. “And when I want something I usually get it.”

  “That’s the one thing we have in common,” Scourge said. “Now roll it over.”

  Roll? That was no good. I wanted to get close to Scourge. Get my paws on him before Gunmetal could blast away. “Here, just take it.” I took a step forward.

  “No.” Scourge looked to my left and right. “Don’t move. Stay right where you are.”

  I glanced both ways. And smelled a bushwhack. “No thanks.” I took a step onto the carpet. And my foot squished. The rug was soaked.

  “Got you,” Gunmetal said. A red jolt of electricity jumped from her hand onto the wet rug. It cut a jagged red line to my foot, and shot up my leg. I locked tight. And dropped the diamond. It landed on my shoe, and skittered away.

  When the juice stopped flowing I fell to my knees.

  Gunmetal ran over, grabbed my left arm and twisted it. I fell forward, and caught myself with the other hand. She bit down on my wrist. Her fangs cut through my clothes, but stopped just short of breaking skin.

  Scourge walked to the diamond. He picked it up and said, “I can’t believe this is real.”

  “It is,” I said. “Now-”

  “Your declarations rank pretty low on things I’ll buy without a warranty, so you’ll forgive me if I double-check.” Scourge removed a small magnifying lens from his coat, plunked it over his eye, and looked at the diamond. “Good lord.”

  With my arm still in her mouth Gunmetal said. “What is it?”

  “It’s the fake we put in the display. You really thought we wouldn’t check? I guess we’ll do this the hard way, and pull it from your baby girl’s skinless hands. I wonder what part of her I’ll keep.” Scourge pocketed his eyepiece and nodded.

  Gunmetal bit into my left arm. Her venom flowed into me like lava.

  “Arg!” I pulled away. But she came with. So I plowed an uppercut with my right fist into her ribs. Gunmetal flew off me and into the wall. I rolled to the side, pulled out Rico with my uninjured hand, and aimed at her.

  Only now she’d been replaced with a fuzzy pair of twins. Damn venom, it already had me seeing double. But I knuckled through it, and shot at the one on the right. And missed.

  “Dane Curse,” she said. “I’ve got the perfect spot on my belt for your notch.” She had her hands up and flung a red jolt my way.

  But I ducked. And the bolt struck the wall behind me. Burning splinters and the hot smell of rotting wood filled the air. Through both I aimed, and fired again. This slug hit her chest. Gunmetal grunted, and tumbled back.

  I got to my feet. Scourge was clutching the diamond in the corner. I’d handle him soon. But first I aimed at his bodyguard’s face.

  From her back, Gunmetal threw another bolt my way.

  It struck my right shoulder. I stayed on my feet but Rico dropped to the floor. So it was time to unleash Lois. I went to grab her. But the burning in my left arm had given way to numbness. My hand was now too cold to feel. Too cold to move.

  Gunmetal got to her feet. “There’s a lot of fight in him.”

  “I told you,” Scourge said.

  I looked down at Rico. If I lunged for him Gunmetal would attack, and that was too risky. Who knows what part of me she’d hit? No. I needed her closer.

  “You want me to finish him off, or let the venom work its wonder?” Gunmetal said.

  “Why don’t you cook him some? Dane always said he was a rare sort, but when I pay for a job I expect it to be well done.”

  “No,” I said. “Please. Stay away.”

  Gunmetal walked over. “Time to send you to your secretary.” She grabbed my shirt with both hands. And poured her power through it. She really gave me all she had, too. Her fists glowed so bright that even though I clamped both eyes shut I could still see her crimson shine.

  I dropped to my knees next to Rico. And shook some. But it didn’t hurt. Not one bit. Monday’s vest took the entire brunt and kept me a balmy ninety-eight point six. Until finally she let up, and the room went dark.

  “And that’s that,” Scourge said.

  “No,” Gunmetal said. “Something’s wrong. He should be burnt umber by now.” She grabbed my shirt and ripped it open. “What the?”

  My eyes popped open. “Nice shot, but I’m wearing a vest.” I grabbed my Thumper from the floor. He was so heavy that I couldn’t lift him high, but I got his muzzle against Gunmetal’s knee. And fired. The bullet ripped through her cartilage. Then her bone. And spread both out on the rug like a spilled bowl of borscht.

  “Arg!” Gunmetal grabbed her leg and flopped to the ground.

  I turned to Scourge. “Now for you.”

  But that damn venom. I moved too slow. And Scourge put a fist across my chops.

  I didn’t roll with it.

  “God damn it.” Scourge dropped the diamond and jumped back, cradling his hand. “I think you broke it.”

  I stumbled to my feet. And turned his way. “I’m going to break more than that.”

  “What?” Scourge danced back. “You’re not making any sense.”

  And he was right. Both my lips were numb. And my left arm still wasn’t responding. It was like I had a stroke. If I didn’t get that anti-venom in me immediately I’d be dead. So I dropped Rico, reached into my jacket, and wrapped my hand around the dart. I got it, along with Widow’s vial.

  “He’s going for the Kapowitzer.” Scourge threw his shoulder into me. And bounced off without making a mark.

  But somehow Gunmetal leapt onto my back. She clawed my face. And pulled me down to the carpet. Quick as a cat that tiny dame had me straddled, and pinned the hand that held my dart and the antidote. There was a madness in her eyes. “No more guns.” She drove her fist down on the back of my hand.

  And something snapped. But it wasn’t bone. I yelled, “No.” Holding the dart and vial tight, I pulled my right hand out and backhanded Gunmetal across the face with it. She flew off, and rolled into the corner.

  I sat up. And looked into my palm. The vial of anti-venom was shattered and empty. But Monday’s dart was still full. Thank God for- No. I was wrong. The dart itself may’ve been fine, but its needle, it had broken off.

  Now there was no way to inject the antidote.

  Now I was a dead man.

  Killed by Scourge and Gunmetal Gray.

  But nuts to that. I may be worm food, but if I killed those two humps, Doodle’d be safe. So that’s what I’d do.

  Tossing the syringe aside I scooped up Rico.

  “I’ll be in the car.” Scourge had the Faux-conut in hand as he ran for the door.

  I fired at him. Again and again. But he made it out unscathed.

  “Son of a bitch.” Struggling to my feet I staggered after him. “Wait.”

  “Bastard,” Gunmetal said. “I’m going to kill you.”

  I spun her way. The tiny dame was limping towards me, her hands outstretched. I could only lift Rico waist high. So I blasted her other leg. More meat and blood sprayed the wet rug, and Gunmetal toppled.

  I meant to run through the door. But instead I slumped against the wall. My head felt like it was packed with wet cotton.

  “Still coming, Curse.”

  I looked down. Gunmetal was clawing her way to me like a crippled lioness.

  Lifting Rico I aimed at her face. Just as my left eye went blind. It didn’t matter. My right was still good enough. I used it to line up my shot. And blasted away. But the lead sailed wide, and hit the rug.

  So I fired another.

  It landed wrong too.

  Gunmetal reached out and grabbed my ankle. She yanke
d hard and I crumbled to the ground. Pulling herself on top of me she said, “Son of a bitch, you’re about to die.”

  “Ladies first.” I lifted up my piece.

  Gunmetal swatted it aside. And pinned my hands to the ground. Her mouth swung open. Wide. And she bit my shoulder, sending another few CC’s of venom oozing into me.

  It was like magma flowing under mantle. And I writhed as she held my meat in her jaws. But then it all stopped throbbing. I went still. My muscles were limp. Their fight, gone.

  Gunmetal eased her mouth open, and straightened up. Then she grabbed my lapels and pulled me up so I was an inch from her face.

  I said, “What… you doing?”

  She looked at me like a hawk stares at lunch. “I like to watch the light die.”

  And the angry dame was close enough to do it. But instead of shrinking I said, “Me… too.” Using all my strength, I somehow wrapped my left arm around her lower back, and hugged her tight. Then I slipped my right hand under her armpit, snaked it back over her shoulder, and grabbed her face.

  That bird of prey look was gone. “What the?”

  I pulled down against her chin, trying to fold her straight back over my left arm like a towel. She twisted. And clawed. But still I poured on the pressure.

  “What’re you doing?” Gunmetal said though her fangs and my fingers.

  “Letting you… watch the… light die.” I pulled her chin harder, trying to break her in half. And although the vertebrae were clinging to each other with bony tenacity, her spine was separating. Just a bit.

  Gunmetal panicked, and grabbing my chest she blasted away with every bit of power she had. Her hands glowed bright red. They lit up the room like the heart of a star.

  But I didn’t feel a thing.

  Finally she stopped. And the room went dark. But I could see she was sweating. Panting, too. The famous assassin was all out of strength.

  But I had one meager helping left. And I used it to squeeze. And squeeze. And then, with a sickening thrunch, Gunmetal’s spine snapped in two as she folded backwards over my arm.

  I dropped the broken broad on the floor. And slumped over next to her.

  She was staring at me. And damn it if she didn’t blink. “Good move, Curse. Didn’t think you had it in you.”

  “Most people don’t,” I said.

  She took two sharp breaths. “Which one of us… Do you think’ll die first?”

  I tried to say, “You.” But my mouth didn’t work. So I lay still. Thinking of Doodle. She was in so much danger. But I was a dead man. There was still some antidote in Monday’s dart, but even if I could reach it there was no way to inject it. The venom inside me couldn’t be stopped. Not anymore.

  As my world went dark the last thing I saw was Gunmetal. Her spine may’ve been busted, but her spirit was unbroken, and through the black veil that settled over my eyes I saw her shining smile.

  Chapter 47

  Wait. That’s it.

  I may be near dead, with no fight left, but my baby needed me. So I dug down to the last store of strength that only a father keeps for his daughter, and took the king of all breaths. Then I rolled to my side, and threw a numb leg over Gunmetal. Pushing myself up I straddled the tiny woman. And the room pitched back and forth. I forced it to stand still, then searched for Rico. He was a few feet away. Reaching over I grabbed him. He felt like an anvil. But I put my rapidly weakening back into it and dragged him to me.

  Gunmetal gazed up. “What the hell?”

  “Stop talking,” I said, and pushed my muzzle into her mouth. “This has to be perfect.”

  “What’re you doing?” she said around the cold metal.

  “This.” I angled my rod so it pressed against the roof of her mouth, and pulled the trigger. My pistol blasted loud. Skull bits and meat exploded from the front of Gunmetal’s face. Wet blood poured from the gaping hole. But there was no scream. Just red bubbles churning.

  And in the middle of that crimson cauldron, hanging by a thin, meaty thread, was a Trumite fang.

  I tossed Rico aside, pinched the tooth, and plucked it like a rose. Shredded, bloody gum still clung to it like pulp on an orange slice. I cleaned it off the best I could, then crawled over to my dart. As I grabbed it my sight kicked off entirely. I was blind. My pulse picked up its pace.

  And I willed it down. The faster my heart beat, the quicker the poison would finish its job. And that job stood mostly done. So I steadied myself. And on feel alone I dragged the dart’s opening around the dull end of the fang. Finally, after a lengthy search, it clicked into the tube Gunmetal’s venom traveled through. The fit wasn’t perfect. So I wrapped my hand around both and squeezed them together, hoping to make a seal.

  Then I held it out. And as fast as I could, jammed the fang into my chest and pressed the plunger. Cold antidote flowed into me. My muscles drank it like a burnt sponge getting its first taste of water. And slowly, the room came into view. Feeling returned to my limbs. I grabbed Rico and jumped to my feet.

  From the carpet, Gunmetal vomited the words, “Curse… Kill me.”

  Half her face was missing, like it’d been chewed off by an industrial accident. But despite the soupy mess I could still see the human pain in her eyes. The fear. The need for mercy. “No,” I said. “Wouldn’t want you to miss out on that dying light.” Then I charged down the hall and out of the building.

  Scourge was next to the rusted car on the curb with one leg inside it. He flinched at my presence. “You? How?”

  “Stand still, I’ll show you.” I lifted Rico. Too slow.

  Scourge jumped into the clunker. And it roared to life like a volcano. The rear tires squealed, and it shot forward.

  I slid my still heavier than normal pistol into its holster, ran to my sled, and hopping in I followed as fast as I could.

  Scourge was almost at the end of the road. Only now his car’s rusty hue was matte black. And the exterior shifted around until it looked exactly like my Jalopy. Even our license plates were identical.

  He took a quick right onto the street. I turned after him. Monday was waiting, and as I zipped by I hit my horn. The cop got on my tail and together we chased Scourge through traffic.

  But the slippery fiend was driving maniacal. He hit a car to the left. It spun out, and stopped in my path. I veered to the side, clearing it easy. And so did Monday.

  Then my quarry swerved right. And clipped an oncoming motorcycle’s rear tire. The rider went down. But his bike flipped up. It rolled nose over tail, right at me.

  Jerking the wheel left I barely slipped past it.

  But Monday took it head on, pinning the cycle beneath his frame. Metal shrieked and sparks flew as my backup ground to a halt.

  Leaving just me and Scourge.

  Up ahead the traffic thinned, so Scourge poured on the throttle. He was flying now, putting some distance between us.

  But then he took the next on-ramp.

  I looped up behind him. And smiled. We were getting onto the I-93.

  Finally. This road was going to help.

  A row of bright yellow barrels blocked the path. Scourge crashed through them without slowing down. I followed him past the wreckage and onto the deserted patch of highway itself. Scourge started to pull away. I let him. And came to a stop, waiting for what I knew was coming. The bridge up ahead had a missing segment. He wouldn’t be able to go any farther.

  And right on time like Tokyo trains, Scourge’s brake lights turned angry and I heard skidding. He turned around. And revved his engine. Then his Jalopy came barreling back at me around eighty miles per hour, dragging a cloud of dust like an angry avalanche. That was no small threat. The car he was in would probably rip through mine easy. The smart move would be to pull over, let him pass, and follow until I could overpower him somehow.

  But instead of the smart move I hit the gas. My car’s tires spun and caught and I blasted off the line.

  Scourge kept coming. Right at me. And he was getting closer. Fast. Maybe a hundred y
ards separated us. Meanwhile the needle on my speedometer reached the top of the sky, then started to set. I downshifted, and it dipped below the horizon. Out front, Scourge’s Jalopy was coming in hard. It was like playing chicken with a mirror. We were just seconds away from impact.

  So I unclicked my belt, jammed an open hand through the roof, and peeled it back like a tin of sardines. Then I put both heels onto my seat.

  And, with Scourge mere meters away, I jumped.

  Up and out of my car I sailed through the night air. And as I went I extended my heels, aiming them at Scourge’s head. Beneath me metal shrieked, tires exploded, and glass shattered as our Jalopies kissed like two drunk Frenchmen. Right as I hit his windshield with both feet.

  I burst into Scourge’s car in a hail of shattered glass. It swerved and screeched and came to a stop. It was dark. I looked around but couldn’t see a thing.

  Then the light clicked on.

  I was upside down. In the backseat. I searched for Scourge’s severed head, figuring I’d kicked it off like a soccer ball. But I was all alone. I pulled myself up, and looked into the front of the car. And I couldn’t believe it. That wretched skunk was still in one piece, crawling out the door.

  “Come here, you.” I lunged over the seat for his ankle. And got his pant cuff.

  He turned around. There was fear on his face.

  “It’s time to get wet and red. Just like a butcher’s block.” I pulled him to me.

  “Not likely.” Scourge slid the straight razor from his sleeve. And sliced at my left eye. I shut it tight. But his keen edge slipped between my lids. And slit open the soft tissue beneath. Pain shot through to the back of my skull.

  “You bastard!” With my free hand I clamped down on the injured orb. But the other still held his cuff. With it I pulled him closer. “I’ll kill you.”

  Scourge took a second swipe with the razor. This time he hit his pant leg, right below my grip. It cut the fabric free, and I tumbled back as Scourge slithered out of the car and ran.

  Keeping pressure on my injured peeper, I jumped out and went after him.