Red and Black

by Nancy O'Toole Meservier

  For a second, I closed my eyes and breathed. Come on Dawn, time to move forward. No time to freak out. Dana—and everyone else—they needed Red and Black.

  Pressing my hands against the floor, I made my way to my feet. I glanced up, searching for cameras. Finding none in this section, I tucked myself into a dark corner and transformed.

  Once I was costumed up, my panic faded to a more manageable level, urging me to run toward, not away from, the danger in front of me. I pushed myself out of the shadows and walked to the metal staircase.

  “Right,” I murmured. “The tram.”

  “What about the tram?”

  The sound of a cool, authoritarian voice snapped me to attention. I spun around and froze to see a gun leveled just a couple of feet from my face.

  And on the other side of that gun stood Detective Amanda Bronson, her face set into the hard lines of a frown.

  Well, crap. This was bad. It was one thing to bullshit my way past random henchman #12. Detective Bronson, on the other hand…hell, I didn’t even know whose side she was on. Was she Callie Saunders’s crooked cop? Or had she really been looking to help me with my case when she had shown up at my house? Just because there were bad cops on the BCPD, didn’t mean she was one of them.

  It also didn’t mean she wasn’t.

  “Ah…hello, Detective,” I said, raising my hands and putting on my friendliest smile. “I had a feeling you’d be less than pleased about my little visit to Mr. Hamilton’s, but this is a bit excessive, don’t you think?”

  She blinked and took a step forward.

  “What did you take from Hamilton’s house?” she asked. “I saw the hole in the wall.”

  “Maybe I was just taking out some of my frustration on the wood paneling?”

  As I spoke, the building rumbled as a tram passed beneath us.

  “Bullshit,” she said, teeth gritted. “You took something we missed from Arthur Hamilton’s office. You were there the day that he was kidnapped, and what the hell is going on with the tram?”

  “I don’t know,” I said, the words seemingly escaping my mouth against my own will. “But four of Bailey’s citizens are about to get kidnapped, and I’m not afraid to go through you to stop that from happening.”

  And then the detective did something that surprised me. The normally calm woman lowered her gun, turned, and kicked the nearest pile of cardboard boxes.

  “Fuck,” she cursed.

  “Ah…sorry?” I said, lowering my hands.

  “What the hell is going on in my city! Lawyers getting kidnapped by freaking helicopters. Kids in costumes falling off the tops of our largest buildings. Weirdos who speak about eternal devotion to this mythical goddess-level figure. And the one lone IT guy who seems to have the biggest target in the world painted on his back.”

  I blinked.

  “You’re shadowing Dana Peterson,” I said slowly.

  “Of course I’m shadowing Dana Goddamn Peterson.” Detective Bronson threw up her hands.

  I shook my head. Could that be why she had been the one to show up at Arthur Hamilton’s house? Had she been keeping an eye on Dana, then followed me to the lawyer’s place? Given that Marty and Noel weren’t showing up in the police report, that left me as the sole connection between the lawyer and the IT guy, and having me go from one house to the next pretty much confirmed it.

  “Didn’t expect him to come to this stuffed-shirt event. Nor did I expect him to get taken away alongside three elite members of Bailey City society.”

  “Where did they take them?” I asked, stepping forward. “Are they okay? Are they—”

  “Knocked out one by one as they entered this room.” The detective waved a hand toward the door. “Chloroform or something similar. Like a freakin’ movie.”

  “How did you even get in here?”

  “Saw the waiters acting all suspicious about this door. My paranoia was set up to ten, so I figured I’d check it out when they were distracted. And what do I find here? An army, I kid you not. Had they not been so focused on each other, I wouldn’t have even been able to slip in here. And then they start knocking out high society members, plus my guy.” She reached to the police radio at her belt. “And every time I try to call for backup, I get brushed off.” She shook the radio in anger. “Damn it. This is not a one-woman job.”

  “What about a two-woman job?” I asked, spreading out my arms.

  The detective paused, and took one long look at me.

  “They say you’re pretty strong,” she said slowly.

  “And I heal fast too,” I replied. “Listen, Detective, I don’t have time to fill you in on everything, but we’re dealing with a woman named Callie Saunders, who can mess with people’s minds or something. She has it in for five people, Arthur Hamilton, and the four she’s just kidnapped. I don’t know what she’s planning on doing to them, but I do know that it involves the trams.”

  “They headed down to the station,” the detective replied with a nod. “Not moving very fast carrying four unconscious hostages, but by now—”

  “We need to move,” I said. I paused and nodded to her. “Thank you.”

  “Can’t see that I have a better option.” She shrugged, pulling a flashlight from her pocket. “I just hope that what people say about you is right.”

  “Ah…do they say good things?” I couldn’t help but ask, my voice rising slightly in pitch.

  “I thought you said we need to move.”

  “Ah. Right, right.”

  As we descended the darkened stairs I couldn’t help but think of our first meeting, at her seemingly endless persistence in trying to find answers I didn’t want to give.

  I had a feeling I was going to need that persistence tonight.

  19

  Last Fight

  Alex

  “Remember, Susan, this is for the Tong family,” Amity said. “A special treat for the door prize winners. You’ve agreed to drop them off before heading home to Angela. That baby’s still pretty young, after all, and she’ll appreciate the fact that you’re home early.”

  Amity stared straight into the eyes of the tram conductor, a thickset woman who appeared to be in her late thirties, with short, curly blond hair and fair skin. Amity’s hand was resting gently on the woman’s bare forearm. The conductor’s hand was resting, just as gently, on the controls of the tram. When we had first stormed the conductor’s cabin, her hand had gripped that valve, but all it took was a little rewiring from Amity to calm her down. Amity stepped back and the conductor smiled, turning toward Marty Tong.

  “It’s so nice of you to come here yourself,” she said. “You know I’d do anything for your family. They’ve been so understanding with the new baby and all.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me,” Marty said, his face spreading into a grin. “They really do care about their employees, after all.”

  As he spoke, I couldn’t help but notice the tire iron resting against a nearby wall. All it would take was one crouch for him to reach down and grab it.

  Amity and I turned toward the exit and stepped through. The door slid shut behind us as we entered the first of the three tram cars. It was empty save for Amity and myself.

  “You know,” I said, “it’s one thing to remember agreeing to something a few days ago, but it’s not like you’re actually mind-controlling her. Once she stops and really thinks about that, she might realize this doesn’t make much sense.”

  “That’s why we brought in Marty as a backup,” Amity said. “Don’t worry, he’ll be able to convince her, one way or another.”

  I didn’t doubt that.

  “I’m going to check on the back before we ship out,” I said.

  “Be careful!”

  Amity’s singsong voice made my jaw tighten. Lights flared up all around me, showing me every flaw in the tram car.

  The trams came in two styles. For the newer lines, the cars were joined by an open, flexible segment that would adjust at every twist and turn and allow for f
ree movement between the cars. But this was one of the older ones. With these, each car was a separate unit and connected to the others on the outside. It was still possible to go from car to car, but you had to open the doors and step outside for a second.

  It wasn’t exactly safe if the trams were moving. This was why the doors were normally locked, but we had asked Susan to unlock them until we were ready to head out.

  Leaving Amity behind, I headed to the tail end of the car. I slid open the back door, planting my foot on the joint that connected the cars before sliding open the door to the second car. I closed both doors behind me as I exited the first car and moved into the second. They let out a rolling rumble as they shut.

  This car was fuller than the other, containing eight drones. They weren’t dressed in waiters’ uniforms like the ones we had left upstairs. Those had been Group A. Their purpose had been confirming, via text, that each one of the marks was on-sight in time for the “drawing,” which of course, I had rigged to select the four targets. From there, Group B had taken over. The six-man group, which included myself, had been assigned the task of knocking out each of the marks and bringing them downstairs. Given that they had been led through the door one by one, the job had been disturbingly easy. Even the marks themselves hadn’t seemed as heavy as they should have. I flexed my hands. If I paused to think about it, I could still smell the chloroform.

  This second car contained Group C, who had been responsible for protecting Marty and Amity. The two had located a tram car for our getaway and a conductor to drive it. From what Amity said, they had faced no real obstacles.

  Which brought us up to now. If Susan could remain brainwashed, it would just be a quick tram ride to an abandoned station behind the Grand Bailey. We were, in theory, in the home stretch, with the hard work already behind us.

  So why did I feel so wound up?

  I wasn’t the only one. As I entered the second car, Noel sprang to his feet. He had been upset when I had switched him from group A to C last minute, given his experience as a waiter, but it had been a good call. He had seemed way too on edge for anything covert.

  Still seemed that way, in fact.

  “Are we going now?” he asked, the words leaving his mouth in a rush.

  “Almost there,” I said, raising my phone. I had a walkie-talkie app, which I could use to communicate directly with Amity. “Just need to check with the last car.”

  “Do you think you were followed?”

  “Not that I could see,” I said, patting Noel on the shoulder. “But let’s not push our luck. We need to leave as soon as we can.”

  I headed to the back of the car. As I passed the others, they nodded toward me. I paused. It wasn’t the look of devotion they gave Calypso. No, it was respect, and it felt earned. Hell, if anyone earned anything tonight, it was them. After all my concerns, the drones had performed perfectly. Sure, some, like Noel, were wound pretty tight, but everyone had kept themselves under control.

  I walked into the third and final car, shutting both doors behind me. Here Group B stood surrounding the four marks, unconscious and secured to the seats with zip ties to keep them from moving around too much.

  “We all set, boss?” one of drones, a tall woman with blond hair pulled back into a ponytail, asked.

  “Looks like it,” I said, then raised the phone to my lips. “We’re good to go. Send the tram out.”

  “How commanding of you, Ally,” Amity’s voice purred. “No wonder Callie likes you so much.”

  I bristled in annoyance at the use of my sister’s nickname before shoving the phone into my pocket.

  A snap filled the air as all the safety locks in the three cars switched on, isolating the cars from each other and the outside.

  The next sound I heard was almost a twisted perversion of that. I spun around just in time to see the double doors to the second car being forced open by gloved hands. All eight members of Group C sprang backward as a familiar woman dressed in red and black stepped inside. Only this time, she wasn’t alone. Behind her was some blond woman with a gun. She raised it toward Noel.

  “Freeze! Police!” The blond woman’s voice boomed through the tram. “Raise your—”

  A hiss filled the air, and the train jerked, sending all of us stumbling.

  Then, before I could react, the members of Group C launched themselves at the two women who had the power to ruin all our plans.

  Dawn

  Once we had confirmed that the lumps in the third car were really the unconscious victims, I had held Detective Bronson back, resting my hand on her surprisingly well-muscled arm.

  “I’m pretty sure these people have been brainwashed somehow,” I said, thinking back on Sully’s odd behavior. “They may not be here by choice. Try not to hurt them too badly.”

  Detective Bronson gave me a look that was half disgust, half “what-kind-of-a-cop-do-you-think-I-am?” before nodding her response.

  She looked like the picture of determination stepping inside of that car, her service weapon at the ready. For one insane moment, I almost wanted to back up and let her take the lead, despite the fact that I was the one with the super strength. We were surrounded by eight full-grown men, dressed in regular clothing as if they were out for a night of bar hopping, not kidnapping. The moment we stepped inside, she raised her gun toward one of them. Noel, I realized with a start. She shouted at them to freeze, and for a second I thought they would listen. Then the tram jerked to a start, cutting her off.

  And when regained our footing, all eight of them rushed us at once.

  A fist came flying toward my head. I caught sight of my attacker, teeth gritted and face scrunched up in determination, before ducking to the side, narrowly missing the blow. I grabbed his head, then smashed it against one of those metal poles you hold to keep you from falling all over the place while on the tram. The impact sent a clang throughout the car.

  From behind me, I heard the blast of gunfire.

  “Detective,” I gasped, spinning around just in time to see Noel grappling with Detective Bronson. My classmate had pressed himself up against her. His right hand, still bandaged from the injury I had given him a few weeks back, was wrapped around her own as he tried to go for her gun. I took a step forward to help, then froze as the detective broke free of his grip and pistol whipped Noel across his face.

  “Ouch!” I winced in sympathy.

  The Detective snapped her head in my direction.

  “Get to the back!” she ordered, then turned to the front before hollering, “Get down and put your hands in the air!”

  Well, then.

  I turned to make my way to the last car, toward Dana and the other hostages who needed my help. Toward Faultline, the man who had knocked me out of the top of a skyscraper only weeks before. Toward the people who worked for Callie Saunders.

  I took one step forward and the guy I thought I had just knocked out reached out and grabbed at my ankle. I stumbled, falling flat on my face, an experience that was equal parts painful and humiliating.

  “You’re killing my heroic entrance!” I called back to him before kicking him in the face, finishing off what I had started.

  And then I saw something shiny make its way down toward me in an undeniable arc.

  Just what I needed, a knife.

  Trams, not being the widest modes of transportation, provide very little rolling room for getting out of the way of a descending knife, but I managed to do it somehow. I landed on my back just in time to see my attacker bury the steel in my cape. Only, as previously established, the cape was unbreakable, so the knife did pretty much nothing. My assailant, a balding Hispanic guy who would have looked better suited as an accountant than a knife-wielding maniac, stumbled forward from the force of his own blow.

  I placed my hands up and behind my head. Pressing my palms against the floor, I pushed backward using the force to launch me up and onto my feet. Taking full advantage of the momentum I had created, I continued my arc downward and into a crou
ch, bringing my elbow onto the guy’s shoulder. He hit the ground.

  “So awesome,” I murmured under my breath as I straightened up again.

  Well, that was three down, at least. And that didn’t count any that the detective had managed to take—

  Oh, look! Another baseball bat. And this one’s made of metal!

  As it crashed into my face, I took a moment to ponder the many variations that I had discovered the word “pain” could produce just within the past week.

  The blow sent me down to one knee. The man, a dark-skinned figure who towered over my costumed self, raised the bat for another blow.

  Bang!

  A shot rang out, and the slugger jerked back as the bullet hit him in the shoulder. And on a moving train! Forget me. Powerless Detective Bronson was the real badass here. I turned around to express my gratitude. For a moment, she stood there, legs spread wide, gun held out straight, completely confident in her own ability.

  And then she was tackled by one of the remaining thugs. He shoved her up against the back of one of the benches of the tram, squishing her face against the leather. Okay, that was a bit less heroic.

  “Hey!” I cried in protest. “Don’t hit ladies.”

  I sprang forward, pulling him off the detective and pushing him up against the locked door of the tram. He hit the glass hard, and it cracked beneath the impact. He went down to the ground. Looked like we would have to be more careful now. Our disarmed attackers were becoming tripping hazards.

  “Don’t worry about me. Get to the hostages!” Bronson shouted, clearly thankful for my timely rescue.

  Before I could comply, someone small and wiry jumped on my back, causing me to trip and fall backward to the floor. I felt a forearm wrap around my windpipe and squeeze.

  Yikes! How the hell had I missed that guy? It wasn’t like there were many places to hide on a frickin’ train. From my vantage point on the floor, I watched as the one remaining guy descended upon Detective Bronson. She raised her gun to fire.