Dane Curse (6 page)

Chapter 12

The hidden room was small, but not cramped. It had smooth, white walls that were slightly rounded, and nearly every inch of them were covered with framed keepsakes. There was one light in the center of the ceiling, and beneath it sat a workstation with a high-end communications unit about the size of a ham radio next to a small stack of papers. It looked promising, but I started my search in the far corner where, folded on a pedestal, was Pinnacle’s uniform. I was this close to it only once before. Bright red dominated the torso and sleeves. A silver that made fresh snow look dull covered the legs, and ran up the chest to form his trademark P. I picked up the cape, and rolled it between my fingers like a miser would his gold, easily recognizing the nearly indestructible feel of Wonder Weave.

After I had my fill I put it back exactly how it was, and moved along the walls. Newspaper clippings, pictures of classroom visits, and children’s drawings were everywhere, along with an obscene amount of awards from civic groups. I counted over a dozen keys to a dozen cities before I got to the display cases, which held his most impressive trophies. There was a chunk of the giant comet that almost destroyed Gold Coast, the Horn of Thehmoon, and on the far right sat a mask belonging to True Patriot who was, for those keeping score, the very first white cape I ever fought.

When I finished the circuit I took a seat at the workstation, and began leafing through the small stack of letters there. The first was from a sick little girl at Gold Coast Children’s Hospital who wanted Pinnacle to take her flying before she died in four months’ time. My heart sunk an inch. This was the exact type of request he’d respond to. I moved to the next one. It was a note that read: Thanks for the wishes big brother, I’m the third Waller man to make it! I wish dad was alive to see it, both his sons started in Gold Coast House 182. P.S. Look what I found, your old gear! And hey, I know it’s a long shot but will your mom be coming to my birthday? I’d love to see her. It was signed ‘Barry’.

Of course, the photo I found earlier was of his brother, or more accurately half-brother. I shook my head and moved on to the next letter. It was from Templeton University asking Pinnacle to speak at their graduation, something he’d done often. I picked up the fourth expecting another person asking for something, only it wasn’t.

Dear Pinnacle,

I have been informed that you have yet again failed to lend your support to our plans for national expansion. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you how vital it is that my network be implemented across the country, and how pivotal your support is in making that happen. Without a SPEC presence in every city black cape crime is sure to expand to epidemic proportions, and the loss of life this will cause could be catastrophic. I would like to remind you that I cannot be dissuaded from this plan, and if you continue to maintain this obstinate position it will force me into actions I’d rather not take. Frankly, considering the cover I’ve provided regarding the penchant you and your allies have for the destruction of public property I expected more assistance. I am very eager to discuss this further with you at our meeting later this week.

Yours Humbly,

Marc Humphries

Executive Director

Special Powers Extraction Commission

Huh. Monday said that despite minor friction the SPECs and white capes got along fine, but unless I was reading this wrong there was hostility between those lines. The director was known as a serious man who believed in his mission. How far would he go to expand his force? I made a note to check up on it, then picked up the last letter figuring it couldn’t be more intriguing. And not for the first time today I figured wrong.

The next time you cross me I’ll kill you. I have the power and the will. Watch your back.

Unlike the previous one it was written by hand. The script was rushed and sloppy, but also distinctive. I pocketed it along with Humphries’ correspondence and leaned back. These were a nice couple of leads, not great, but nice. Granted, getting close to Humphries would be a major challenge, as would finding this felt-tip-fiend, but nuts to that. These letters were put aside by Pinnacle, which made them important, and I couldn’t help but feel closer to finding his killer.

I took a deep breath, and gave the room one last look.

I was about to leave when I saw a small, blue object sitting on the edge of the table that must’ve been hiding under the stack of letters. It was one of those key chain toys they sell in tourist traps, the kind with a picture in one end and a tiny spyhole on the other. Holding it up to the light I peered inside. It took a second to make out what I was looking at, but when I did I forgot all about the papers in my pocket.

It was a shot of Pinnacle, as Ben Waller, smiling in civilian clothes, and God damn it if he didn’t have his arm wrapped around just who Fangirl said I’d find; Ms. Ida No, the luckiest girl in the world. She was a real looker, too. Petite, pert, with long dark hair thick enough to lose a finger in, eyes like two flecks of tundra, and a set of curves as warm and inviting as a bath full of bubbles. Who was she? I checked the sides of the souvenir for a logo or the seller’s address, but it was blank. So I inspected the picture again to see if I could find any clues to her identity or whereabouts.

They were standing on a boardwalk, in front of the ocean, with no shops or signs in the background. Both of them had on sweaters so the place had seasons. None of that helped, but I kept looking. I must have sat there for at least ten minutes, like Galileo with his telescope, but I couldn’t find a thing.

The more I stared though, the more I couldn’t shake the feeling that the girl looked familiar. Was she a model? Maybe. Pinnacle could land one easy, but she didn’t seem the type. Models, runway or otherwise, are all hard angles and sinew, and she was softer, more supple. An actress maybe? Nope.

And then I realized who she was. I knew her face and I knew her name. I even knew where to find her. What I didn’t know was how this could happen, or how Pinnacle could’ve been so stupid.

I pocketed the picture, closed the bookshelf door, and bolted from the apartment. On my way to the ground floor I remembered that Fangirl said Pinnacle’s mystery gal had something to do with his absence. But that was wrong. She had everything to do with it. I hopped into Jane, and took off. I knew what I had to do, but in order to do it I’d need a drink.

Thank God my next stop was a bar.

Chapter 13

Even by Gold Coast’s standards Henchmen’s isn’t your typical watering hole. It was founded way back by Dastard Lee as a place exclusively for black capes. There are peanuts on the bar, hot tunes on the juke, and somebody getting walloped every time the big hand hits twelve. Granted it’s been a while since I stopped by, but I still say there’s no better place to grab a brew.

But tonight was different.

Tonight I was here to catch a killer.

I took the stairs down below street level, and walked inside. The dingy floor was covered with checker tile and the mirror over the bar still had the same stains. The place was deserted except for the two sleeping drunks, and a bartender who was busy reading the paper in the corner. He gazed over the top of it and said, “We’re closed.”

I said, “Fronts don’t close,” and didn’t break stride as I made my way to the comms unit hidden in the old timey gramophone on the far wall. On its side was a large, black button. I pressed it, and spoke into the horn. “Let me in.”

“We’re closed, sir,” it squawked back.

Sir? When did that start happening? 
“Not a chance, you probably-”

“I’m terribly sorry, sir, but we are.”

“There’s no way you’re closed because you never close. Come on pal, I’m no SPEC and I’m no cop.” I took off my hat to give whoever was on the other side of the wall a look at my mug. “Be a good lad and pop the lock, I’m square.”

I stood, hat in hand, thinking about the last time I even had to use the buzzer. As long as I could remember the doors flew open before I got halfway to them, but that was what… almost a year ago. Had it really been that long?

I was going to hit the button again when the voice on the other side finally said, “I’m terribly sorry for the confusion sir, please come in.” The wall in front of me slid open, and I stepped through into the dark hallway that led to coat check. There I ran into a uniformed doorman I didn’t know. He was a big boy too. His blond hair was cropped close to the roots, and he sported a pair of tiny eyes that were set too close together.

“Your coat, sir?” The parts of the room that his body didn’t take up, and there weren’t many, got filled by his voice.

“Here you go.” I handed him my overcoat and hat, and went to walk by.

“One moment, sir. Are you armed?”

“No guns?” I said. “In Henchmen’s? Times have changed.”

“Indeed they have. Henchmen’s now has a strict no weapons policy. Are you carrying?”

“Indeed I am, and if you can take them, you can take them.”

“Are you going to be trouble?”

I could tell by the tone he was hoping for a yes, but instead all he got was a “Nope, not me.” I pulled open my jacket exposing the hardware beneath. “And Rico here will probably come quietly too, but Lois is real particular.”

“I’m sure we’ll get along,” he said.

He was no speedster so my Kapowitzer would lay him out easy, and I had no intention of stopping it. Walking into Henchmen’s with nothing but empty holsters was not a part of the plan, but just as the big guy’s meat hooks were an inch from my lady a man called out. “One moment Hate, you don’t want to do that.”

The doorman stopped cold, and I immediately recognized the voice. “Franky? Franky Legend? How the hell are you?”

“How else but legendary?” he said, and shook my hand.

Franky was what you’d call an old friend, but since Franky didn’t have friends the word you should’ve used was acquaintance. I gave him a quick up and down. He was still pure classic, a throwback to a bygone age, but thanks to the cyclical nature of fashion his style had come back around, and didn’t he just look the nines. His black hair was slicked back, he wore a tux, and had on that constant smile which always stayed sharp, even when he worked you over. He’d picked up a few wrinkles, and some gray up top too, but even though time had taken his youthful luster it left him with a nice patina. It suited him.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

“I run this joint now,” Franky said, “and you can leave Mr. Curse his weapons Hate, he won’t be a problem, will you Dane?”

“Who me? If I get squirrely I’m sure it won’t be anything an old flamer like you can’t handle,” I said. “But when have I ever caused a ruckus?”

Hate looked at me. “Is he new?”

Franky smirked. “Not for many decades.”

“Well, enjoy your evening, sir.” The big ape pulled back the curtain and motioned us in.

Even though the lights were set to a romantic dim it was bright enough to see that the doorman was just one of the changes they made since last I visited. The place had so much oak furniture it looked like they felled a forest, and the leather that accompanied it could fill out a very respectable stampede. The bar ran the entire length of the wall and was trimmed with gold, while the ceiling had inlaid ivory with that new polished sparkle. The place couldn’t have been more dripping with money if they had papered the walls with hundred dollar bills. Even the music, which now came from a full piece band, sounded expensive. I never felt out of place here in the old days, but now… when I said times had changed I didn’t know how right I was.

Franky navigated the room effortlessly though, tossing smiles and waves around like a beauty queen as he led us to a table so far back we may have changed zip codes. A pretty young doll pulled out my chair, and after we sat Franky ordered me a scotch and himself a mineral water.

“So how long has the Sindicate been running things here?” I asked.

“A year or so.”

I nodded. “Who’s the thug up front? I’ve got his exact tie at home, but I use it to hold up my pants.”

“That’s H-Eight, pronounced Hate.”

“H-Eight, as in Human Subject Eight? Did he go through the same process as Hone?”

“That’s correct. He’s a good kid, but has impulse control issues.” Franky smiled. “We’re working on them. Together.”

“But Hone has Biogradium wrapped around him, I didn’t see any on Gigantor.”

“He has twice as much, actually. But it’s all under the skin.”

“He’s got living liquid metal inside him?” 
Good thing he didn’t touch Lois. 
“Wait, I never heard of H-Two through Seven. What happened to them?”

Franky shrugged. “Hate.”

“Good to know.” We laughed a little, and it felt nice, like it always did with Franky, right before he got real.

“So what brings you to Henchmen’s? It’s been a long time, didn’t think I’d ever see you around here again, what with all of the remodeling.”

“Just want a drink. Catch up with some of the boys from the old days, maybe.”

“The boys?” Franky said. “The boys from the old days wouldn’t come in here, most of them can’t, so out with it, what’s your angle?”

“I’m looking for a girl.”

“Name?”

“Ms. Right, you heard of her?”

“In my opinion she’s only a legend.”

“You would know.”

He rolled his eyes. “A name. Please.”

I took a sip of my scotch. With a guy like Franky the truth might not go over well, but outright lying was always worse. “I’m here to meet Lynx. Are you expecting her?”

Franky sat up straight. His eyes got a lot wider. “Lynx? Ms. Lynx? You got to be kidding me Dane, when’d you jump to the big league?”

“I haven’t,” I said. “She used to come in back when this place was a bar. Does she still?”

Franky grinned like he knew something I didn’t. “Haven’t seen her in a while?”

“Not in person, no.”

“Well, she’ll be here, but you don’t have an appointment. I doubt she’ll talk to you.”

“I bet she will.”

“And if you can’t get near her you don’t anticipate causing any trouble?”

“Franky,” I said, “one of the benefits of being all thumbs is I know how to keep them out of the wrong eyes.”

He glanced down to where my artillery was hanging. “It’s not your thumbs I’m thinking of. But you just want to talk, that’s fine. Ms. Lynx… Ha.” Franky’s laugh blew out the table lamp, and he relit it with a small burst of black flame from his hand. “Dane, I’ve been running this club for over a year and so far I’ve never been surprised within its walls. You’ve impressed me, really, but if you step out of line it’s your funeral old friend, and I won’t be able to do a thing about it. She’s got all her old man’s powers, but none of his control. So good luck.” He made like he was getting up, but stopped. “Hey Dane, let me ask you, how come you never came over to the Sindicate, huh?”

“Not a fan of clubs,” I said, “too many rules.”

“But you never step out of line, never challenge the status quo. For someone like you it makes no sense to remain undeclared, especially considering what you have to gain. Fat steady paychecks, work you’re used to. We’re always on the lookout for sharp operators and aren’t you just a bag full of tacks. What’s really the issue? Is it that you don’t like us?”

“No, I don’t like you.”

Franky’s smile got a touch less legendary.

“But I don’t dislike you either. I’m freelancing. Like always.”

“Yeah, well things change.”

“So I noticed.” I looked around the room. “But not always for the better.”

Franky laughed though nothing was funny, then he called out to a passing waitress. “Excuse me, Marilyn, would you please bring Mr. Curse a bowl of peanuts. For nostalgia’s sake he’ll be throwing the shells on the floor, don’t clean them until he’s gone. He’ll also be switching from single malt to… we don’t carry Octane anymore so make it a domestic beer, the warmer and flatter the better. Reconsider your allegiance Dane, you’ll live longer.”

They walked off together leaving me alone in the dark, which suited us both.

#

It was still on the early side of the night, and while the place was steadily filling with black capes I was surprised at the number of regs that came in with them. There was a judge, an aide to the mayor, even a Senator, and I couldn’t help but think that Legend had a point—maybe I should come over to the dark side. They had powerful friends, and their friend’s friends had legs that made me look twice.

After about an hour of waiting the conversations died down. I scanned the room for the reason, and it wasn’t hard to find. Over at the entrance, flanked by two familiar thugs, was the dame I’d been waiting for. She was wearing a long, tight black dress that pushed her fun parts up like a vanilla soufflé, and it had a slit on the side high enough to let her thigh peek through to make a few promises it didn’t intend to keep. Below all that, on her two tiny feet, she had a pair of black heels so high the person who made them must’ve needed building permits, and the way she moved in all of it would make a jungle cat jealous. Yeah, she’s a full-grown woman now, but I remembered back when she started out, all fresh faced and coasting on her daddy’s name. Back then she was violent, wild, but now… It was almost too hard to believe the woman in Henchmen’s, and that sweet-as-pie girl on Pinnacle’s arm were one and the same; the savage Lynx, famous black cape, and Lynchpin’s favorite daughter.

There was already a chilled bottle of champagne at her table when she sat down, and before the waiter could pop its cork admirers were swinging by to pay their respects. She accepted some while others were rebuffed by the two guards at her side, and though it took a while the wave finally receded leaving her alone.

“Excuse me, Ms. Lynx?” I said. “May I have a word?”

“Get lost shamus. The lady don’t need no riff raff.” It was the thug on the left, Knuckles. He was the shortest guy in the room and as bald as a melon under his derby, but despite the diminutive stature he was a beast in a brawl thanks to the two giant metal hands he sported at the ends of his arms. They made fists the size of babies, and each knuckle packed a surprise.

His partner on the right, Smiley, couldn’t have looked more different. He was tall, with an eggplant-shaped body that was so soft and pliable it could absorb almost any physical attack without taking damage, like a well-oiled baseball glove. He also had a perpetual grin that was two sizes too big for his face, which he used to give me a hearty “Yeah, no riff raff.”

“Knuckles, Smiley,” I said, “I didn’t see you guys there. How you been?”

“Ah, you know Dane, been better been worse. How you doing?” Smiley asked in that way that makes you love him.

“Shut up, you,” Knuckles said to his friend. “Come on Dane, scram. You mess this up for us and we won’t like it.”

“Boys, please. Be polite. I apologize… Dane was it?” Lynx looked at me with curiosity. “These two can be a bit brusque, but they’re quite right. I’m terribly busy at the moment. Maybe you could come back some other time.”

“Sorry, but I need to ask you some questions.”

“About what, I wonder,” she said. “Make it interesting, I’m losing patience.”

“It’s about a fireman,” I said, leaning over the table. “Goes by the name of Waller. That interesting enough?”

Her face didn’t change. I saw no recognition, no sign of shock, but with the right kind of eyes you’d notice her twin sapphires lost some sparkle.

“You want we should walk him, ma’am?” Knuckles asked.