“I’ve got a big strong superhero with me,” she said. “You’ll protect me.”
“Sure,” I conceded, “but who’s gonna protect me? Those PETA people are ruthless.” I took a bite of my own steak, which had sensibly been cooked enough that I did not feel like a cannibalistic murderer in eating it.
“Speaking of ruthless, I’ve been reading up on the Metahuman Liberation Front. They’re scary,” Ginny said. I had filled her in on the fact I was searching for Clara Barton.
I nodded.
“Don’t worry about me. I’m scary too,” I said. “And yet, oh so gentle. It’s why I’m so successful with both supervillains and the ladies.”
“Since my clothes are still on, you haven’t succeeded with me yet, big boy. Don’t get cocky.”
“The night is yet young,” I said. “Hope springs eternal.”
Ginny put her fork down. Her face took on a serious cast.
“Though I don’t agree with the MLF’s tactics, I kind of think they have a point,” she said. “About the way Metahumans are treated, I mean. Under the Hero Act, you all are required to register with the government once your powers manifest. You have to disclose your identity, and keep the government apprised of your address. And, you are prohibited from using your powers unless you go through the Trials and become a licensed Hero. That hardly seems fair. Normal humans don’t have to jump through those kinds of hoops. If we have a special skill, we aren’t required to tell the government about it, or tell the government where we are at all times, or get the government’s permission to be able to use it.”
“Being good at math or having a great jump shop are hardly the same as being able to shoot lasers from your eyes,” I said.
“Yeah, but isn’t it all a question of degree? I’m taking a constitutional law class right now, and it seems to me the government has a real Equal Protection Clause problem with the way it treats Metahumans. Under the Constitution, the government is supposed to treat citizens the same under the law. It doesn’t do that with Metahumans. It treats them differently than normal humans simply because of an accident of birth. It’s like how the government treated blacks until the success of the civil right movement.”
“I get what you’re saying,” I said, “but it’s not the same thing. The government once allowed the systematic oppression of black people under the idiotic reasoning they were not the equals of whites and therefore did not merit the same rights and privileges of whites. That’s not what the government is doing with Metahumans. The laws about Metahumans are in place because of concerns about public safety. Do you know why the Hero Act was originally passed?”
Ginny nodded.
“A Meta named Joseph Tilly thought too many people would die if the Allies were forced to invade Japan in order to end World War Two,” she said. “So, he flew to Japan and used his powers to set off nuclear explosions in the cities of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. The Japanese surrendered shortly thereafter.”
I nodded.
“That’s right,” I said. “Historians still argue about whether those nuclear blasts made Japan surrender, or if it was on the verge of surrendering anyway. To some people, Tilly is a hero. To other people, he’s a mass murderer.”
“Which do you think he was?” Ginny asked.
I shrugged.
“Beats the heck out of me. I’m still stuck on whether Columbus was an intrepid explorer or a genocidal maniac,” I said. “But, regardless, with Tilly, a single person took it on himself to intervene in a situation that had worldwide implications. That’s why the Hero Act was passed: the government figured it couldn’t have people with powers running around doing whatever they wanted to whomever they wanted with no check on them. The registration requirement makes it easier to trace an incident to a specific Meta if he uses his powers to do something terrible. The licensing requirement is supposed to help ensure that those who use their powers are trained in how to do so, and that they use those powers to help people instead of hurting them.”
“You sound like you agree with the Hero Act and the requirements it imposes,” Ginny said.
I shrugged.
“What’s the alternative?” I asked. “Living in a country where every Metahuman can use his powers however he likes? It would be like living in prehistoric times, with the strongest taking what he wants and to hell with everything and everyone else. If the MLF manages to achieve its goals, there won’t be some kind of Golden Age like they talk about. Whenever a group says they are better than another group, things never end well. Without a check on the power of Metahumans, within a decade we’ll have enslaved all normal Humans, and then start fighting each other over who gets to have the biggest slice of the world’s pie.”
Ginny looked thoughtful.
“Perhaps you’re right,” she said. “I still don’t think the Hero Act is constitutional, though.”
“Don’t tell that to the MLF,” I said. “They would probably kidnap you and force you to represent them in the Supreme Court.”
The waiter took away our plates and brought us dessert. Ginny had something with a lot of chocolate in it. I had blackberry cobbler. I took a bite and chewed thoughtfully. It was not as good as the cobbler my Southern grandmother used to make. But blackberry cobbler is like sex: even so-so cobbler is still great.
“I can’t believe you don’t like chocolate,” Ginny said as she dug into her dessert. “I’m not sure I can trust someone like that. Anyone who doesn’t like chocolate surely has other vices.”
“I’m trying to watch my girlish figure,” I said.
Ginny’s eyes twinkled.
“I’m trying to watch your girlish figure, too,” she said. “I especially enjoy watching it while it’s naked.”
I took another bite of my cobbler. I had a feeling I would be needing the extra calories shortly.
“And so you shall, my dear lady,” I said. “And so you shall.”
CHAPTER 14
Early the next morning, I sat behind the desk of my third floor office. It was located in downtown Astor City. It was small, but I did not need much. It contained the wooden desk I was behind, the chair I sat in, a file cabinet, a small couch against the far wall, and four client chairs placed in front of the desk. I used to only have two client chairs, but I had gotten a lot of press in my last case, and as a result, more visitors. Business was looking up. Pretty soon I would need an office manager, an intern, and a secretary I could sexually harass.
I sensed a presence approaching my office door. Since the human body contained a lot of water, my water-based powers were better than a motion detector.
The door opened. Shadow walked in. As usual, she was in all black. She carried a large duffel bag in her left hand.
“Are you my new secretary?” I asked her. “Can I sexually harass you?”
“You can try,” she said. “If you come away from the attempt with fewer fingers, that’s on you.”
Shadow put her bag down on one of the client chairs.
“The last time I was here, there were only two chairs,” she said. “Now there are four. Optimistic.”
“Hope springs eternal,” I said.
Shadow surveyed the room like a general surveying a potential battlefield. She went to the file cabinet, put a hand on either side, and picked up and moved the full cabinet as easily as it were a bag of groceries. She then picked up and moved the couch so it was by the hinged side of my door. She retrieved her bag, and moved it over to the couch. She unzipped it, and took out a single barrel, pump-action shotgun and two large caliber handguns. Yikes. I would have to be sure to resist the temptation to sexually harass her. I would prey on someone less well-armed.
“Are you planning to overthrow the government with all that firepower? Since I’m a Hero, I can’t go along with that,” I said. “I kind of liked my furniture where it was, by the way.”
Shadow checked the action on her shotgun.
“You want me to watch your back, or to respect your feng shui?” she asked. From
Shadow’s vantage point on the newly positioned couch, she would be behind someone who entered the office. Plus, if she needed to fire the shotgun, from her new angle, it would be less likely I would be hit in the blast.
“Do as you will,” I said. “It does my heart good to watch a true artisan in action.”
“Pay close attention,” she said. “Perhaps you’ll learn something.”
One Shadow finished checking the guns, she placed them on the couch. She then pulled out of the duffel bag a stack of magazines. I spotted Time, The Economist, Black Enterprise, Vogue, Ebony, and The Numismatist.
“The Numismatist?” I asked. “Wow.”
Shadow shrugged. She sat down on the couch with the guns next to her. She opened Time magazine and stretched her long legs out in front of her.
“I’m eclectic,” she said.
We settled in to wait. We had sent a message to the Pied Piper, and hoped he would respond. If he did not, I would have to come up with another plan.
Nothing happened that day. Other than going for a run before lunch, Shadow and I stayed in my office the entire time from the morning until we left at night.
“Is this what being a detective is like?” Shadow asked me at the end of the day before we went our separate ways for the evening. “You just sit around, waiting for something to happen?”
“Mostly. Sometimes I shake things up by eating jelly donuts,” I said. “Got any?” I added hopefully.
“Fresh out,” she said. “I spent all my donut money on ammunition for my guns instead.”
“You picked ammunition over jelly donuts?” I asked. “That shows poor judgment, not to mention a lack of appreciation for a good jelly donut.”
Shadow shrugged.
“If you say so. I’ll trade the ammo in for donuts tomorrow then. If a bad guy comes in, you hold him down and I’ll force-feed him donuts. Then, we’ll just wait and let diabetes take its course.”
CHAPTER 15
The next day, I made some calls and did some filing while Shadow read. To my chagrin, she had not brought any donuts. Neither my calls nor my filing took up much time. I sat at my desk and killed time by reading a thick biography of Theodore Roosevelt. As I read, I wondered, not for the first time, if Roosevelt had secretly been a Meta. If would explain some of the seemingly superhuman things he had accomplished.
There were some big words in the book. I resisted the temptation to sound them out as my eyes moved over them. I did not want to embarrass myself in front of Shadow. She looked up to me. I did not want her to think less of me.
“Do you look up to me, Shadow?” I asked. “Am I the Hero you hope and pray to be someday?”
“No,” she said flatly. She did not look up from her magazine. I was not sure I believed her. She probably just did not want to give me a swelled head by saying yes.
I suddenly thought of the conversation I had had with Ginny about the Hero Act.
“Shadow, are you a registered Meta under the Hero Act?”
Shadow looked up. That day, in a shocking change from her normal color scheme of all black, she had on a dark gray turtleneck. It was tight on her, making the swell of her large breasts hard to ignore. I focused on her eyes and tried to think pure thoughts.
“I’m a sometime thief, sometime assassin, and an all-the-time badass mercenary. Does a person like that want the government keeping tabs on her? So, what do you think?” she asked. “Why, you going to turn me in for being unregistered?”
“No. Although, according to the Hero Act and the Heroes’ Guild, I’m supposed to,” I said.
“I’ve known you long enough to know you don’t always follow the letter of the law or do what the Heroes’ Guild says to do,” she said.
“You’re right. Why start now by turning you in? I do follow the spirit of the law, though. In my mind, the Hero Act was designed to protect the public from dangerous Metas. You’re plenty dangerous, but not to the general public. You’re only dangerous to the people you are hired to target.”
“Yeah, it’s not like I go around knocking little old ladies over the head to steal their Social Security checks. I only sign on to steal from rich people or businesses who can afford it. What I do is not causing them to miss any meals. Besides, people like me are what they’ve got insurance for. Also, it’s not like I’m being hired to knock off priests or orphans. The people I’m hired to deal with are some bad dudes who are better off in the next life. Better off for the rest of us, at least. If there’s a Hell, the people I kill are definitely not better off as they’re most assuredly in it. My last project was a warlord directly responsible for the deaths of over a million of his own people.” Shadow shook her head. “Although it’s hardly legal, I don’t lose any sleep over what I do. The world needs people like me, people who are willing to break the rules and do the things that need doing. Guess who my last client was, the one who hired me to deal with that warlord?”
“No idea,” I said.
“The United States government,” she said. “Remember that in case you’re ever inclined to report my unregistered status to them.”
“I thought it was the government’s official policy it did not participate in assassinations,” I said.
Shadow snorted loudly.
“If you believe that one, I’ve got some beachfront property in the Sahara Desert you might be interested in,” she said. “Why the sudden interest in my registration status, anyway? Thinking about signing on as my apprentice?”
“No. I was talking about the Hero Act with my friend Ginny the other night, and it got me thinking about you. I kind of always assumed you weren’t registered, but didn’t know for sure. Since you don’t believe in Meta registration, do you agree with what the MLF is trying to do?”
Shadow shook her head at me.
“I didn’t say I didn’t believe in Metahuman registration,” she said. “I very much do. A lot of Metas are dangerous, and society is better off with the government knowing who and where they are. Not every Meta has the scruples I do. I won’t do just anything to or for anybody. I have standards, things I’m not willing to do. I won’t hurt an innocent person, for instance, regardless of how much someone is willing to pay me.
“Plus, I think it’s a good thing the government requires people to become licensed Heroes in order for Metas to legally use their powers,” Shadow said. “Although some of you Heroes have egos as big as the sticks up your butts, having you all go through the training and testing requirements of the Trials is a good thing. It weeds out a lot of the bad apples. Not all, but no system is perfect.”
“‘Egos as big as the sticks up your butts,’” I repeated. “I’m not sure, but I suspect you just insulted me.”
“I’ll allay your suspicions—I did.” Shadow graced me with a rare unironic smile. “Even though you’re not nearly as funny as you think you are and you really are an overgrown Boy Scout, you’re the kind of person who should be allowed to use his powers. You use them to help people.” She shook her head as the smile slid off her face. “The people in the Metahuman Liberation Front are cut from a different cloth. They’re not the types of people who should be allowed to use their powers. The members I know are thugs and bullies and gangsters and wanna-be conquerors.”
“It sounds like you won’t be showing up at the group’s next open house for a membership drive, then,” I said.
Shadow laughed dismissively.
“I don’t want to be a member of any group that would also have a worthless turd like Hopper as a member,” she said.
CHAPTER 16
It was the third day Shadow and I had been waiting to hear something from the Pied Piper. I was beginning to think that maybe we would not hear from him. As I sat behind my desk, I thought about what else I could do to locate him and Clara. I also thought about what I would do with her once I found her.
“I’ve been mulling over what we’re going to do with Clara once we find her. Any thoughts?” I asked Shadow.
“What do you mean, ‘W
hat we’re going to do?’” she asked. She put a finger in the book she had been reading. It was a book on psychology. Perhaps she was trying to figure out if she was a sociopath or a psychopath. “You’re the private detective and the licensed Hero. I’m just the hired muscle. You figure it out.”
“Well, I figure I can’t simply take her back to her parents. Her father might try to get rid of her again,” I said.
Shadow shrugged.
“Clara is a minor. Plus, her mother is your client,” she said. “What to do with Clara isn’t exactly your call to make. It’s not your problem.”
I sighed.
“You’re right, and I know it,” I said. “I just wish there was a better option than just handing her back over to her parents. Her father’s the one who got her into this fix to begin with.” I paused. A wild idea occurred to me.
“Shadow, you’re a woman and a Meta. Maybe you could take care of Clara for a while once we find her. Just until I figure out what to do with her.”
I had never seen Shadow look shocked, but the expression on her face came close.
“Me? Who do I look like, bloody Mary Poppins?” she said. “Mr. Scarlett, I don’t know nuthin’ bout birthin’ no babies.” Shadow dropped her normal precisely spoken English and drawled the movie quote like she lived on a Southern plantation.
“Clara’s not a baby. She’s a teenager,” I protested.
“See? That just proves you know more about kids than I do. You take care of her,” Shadow said.
“A grown man living with a teenaged girl he’s not related to?” I snorted. “You trying to get me arrested for pedophilia?”
“Better you than me,” Shadow said.
I didn’t respond. I bit my lip thoughtfully. The question of what to do with Clara when we found her had been nagging at me for a while. But, I guessed I was putting the cart before the horse. After all, we hadn’t found her yet.
As if on cue, I sensed the water signature of two people exit the elevator on my floor. The water signature of one of them was very unusual, and unlike anything I had felt before.
Superhero Detective Series (Book 2): The Missing Exploding Girl Page 10
