The Peregrine Omnibus, Volume Two (105 page)

Käthe came towards the girl, helping her to her feet. “Let’s go get you cleaned up,” she whispered, wrapping an around Elsa’s shoulders. “It’s going to be okay.”

“I know it will be,” Elsa said, a manic grin on her face. “He’s dead. Chopped his head off!”

Käthe exchanged a worried glance with Sun Koh before leading the younger girl away. “Akemi and Imelda… help me, won’t you?”

The Furies followed their leader, Imelda tentatively feeling her head and wincing. Grin’s attack had left her dazed but mostly unharmed.

When the girls were gone back to camp, Sun Koh relaxed the breath he’d been holding. Arthur Grin’s betrayal had wounded Sun Koh on a personal level and left him with the unusual feeling that perhaps he had not made the wisest of decisions. But he also knew that with the correct handling of the situation, this might draw the women tighter to him. They were all pleased with how he handled the matter. He could see that in their expressions. He only hoped that Elsa Mayen would be able to pull herself together.

Sun Koh turned to face the lights in the distance. Somewhere, not far away in the grand scheme of things, the President of the United States was readying himself for bed. The President had no idea that death was readying itself for a visit.

CHAPTER XI

Pieces of the Puzzle

Mr. Benson was a most unusual man. He was neither particularly tall nor wide but he possessed a rugged strength that spoke of many physical pursuits. His hair was white and close-cropped. His eyes were pale gray, though there was the occasional flash of blue, as if chips of ice lurked beneath the surface. His face was the most peculiar aspect of his appearance, however. It was so dead and white that he looked like he’d just crawled from a fresh grave.

His clothing stood in marked contrast to those he passed on his way through the halls of the Pentagon. While most men here wore either carefully tailored dark suits or military uniforms, Benson wore a gray jumpsuit that appeared to be completely without pockets. This was quite an illusion, however, as the interior of the suit was lined with a number of storage areas, each pocket containing useful devices or weapons.

Benson nodded now and then at men he passed and he was acutely aware that few of those he passed were willing to stop and talk to him. There was an air of gravity about Benson, a singularity of purpose that made others uneasy. They all knew his story, of course: of how his wife and daughter had been snatched away from, throwing Benson’s features into paralysis and sending him down a one-way trip to hell. Benson had forged in the crucible of his pain, becoming something both more and less than human. He had spent years hunting the predators of the innocent before moving to Washington, D.C. Now he helped the government deal not only with Fifth Columnists and gangsters but with those enemies who sought nothing less than world domination.

When he approached his office, a young woman stood up and moved around the desk that rested in front of his door. She was as slim and dainty looking as a Dresden doll but Benson knew she possessed the fiery heart of a warrior. “Chief, there’s someone here to see you,” she said.

Benson cast a quick glance around but saw no one waiting in the two chairs reserved for such purpose.

“I went ahead and let him inside. I hope that’s okay.”

Benson’s eyes were the only part of his face capable of showing surprise and they did just that. No one was ever allowed into his office when he wasn’t there, not even the lovely woman standing in front of him. “I take it that I know this person?”

“Yes. He’s an old friend… from Atlanta.”

Benson stared at her for a moment and then nodded, reaching out with a steady hand to open his office. He stepped inside and closed the door behind him, his eyes scanning the office. Though most people would have seen nothing in the shadows, Benson immediately spotted Max Davies standing in the corner. Max stepped forward. He looked tired but otherwise unharmed. He had left his mask and weapons outside, not wanting to try and sneak them into the Pentagon. In fact, the only reason he’d gotten in at all had been that he’d directly namedropped Benson.

“Mr. Davies,” Benson said, moving around the desk to sit down in a plush chair. The top of the desk was incredibly well ordered, with only a few small stacks of folders set on the corner. “I’m surprised you didn’t simply call me.”

“I was in the area and thought I’d drop in to say hello.” Max sat down across from Benson, leaning forward. “Can I speak freely?”

Benson nodded. “There are no recording devices in this office. I’ve made sure of that.”

“I wasn’t sure if you’d be in Washington. I did call your New York office first but one of your agents told me that you were here.”

“I’m spending most of my time in Washington, at least for the duration of the war.”

“I need your help.”

“You know I’m always prepared to assist you.”

“Are you familiar with Sun Koh?”

“Yes. He’s an Aryan superman who vanished several years ago. Rumors suggest that he’s returned but that the Reich isn’t happy about it. We’ve picked up reports that indicate he’s been marked for assassination by no less than Hitler himself.”

Max didn’t bother trying to hide his confusion. “Why in the world would Hitler want Sun Koh dead?”

“Because he views Sun Koh as a threat to him. Sun Koh is everything that Hitler is not these days: he’s handsome, he’s the epitome of everything that an Aryan is supposed to be… and most importantly, he isn’t tainted by the growing doubts of those around him. Sun Koh has yet to lose—while Hitler’s victories are coming slower than before and with more loose ends. If Sun Koh wanted to challenge Hitler for leadership of Germany, he’d have a good chance of swaying the populace.”

Max took a moment to digest that before he continued, using the words he’d rehearsed on the way over. “Sun Koh is here, in America. He’s hidden somewhere along the Potomac River and he’s got a super-weapon that he’s planning to use against Washington. He’s going to kill thousands of people.”

“How do you know this?”

Max hesitated. “I had a vision. My dead father sometimes sends me glimpses of the future… I saw what was going to happen.”

Benson regarded Max coolly, his eyes searching the other man’s face. “You know that I can’t officially authorize anything based on that.”

“But you believe me, don’t you?”

“I have never experienced the supernatural, though many of my enemies have claimed to possess such powers. Always, it ended up being lies or deception, rather than true occult powers.”

“I’m not lying.”

“I didn’t say you were. I simply said that I have never experienced the supernatural myself.” Benson stood up and moved to the window, which overlooked a staff parking lot. “As I said, I cannot officially authorize anything… however, unofficially, I can give you what assistance I can.” Benson turned his head slightly to look at Max. “What would you need?”

“I don’t know where along the Potomac he’s hiding but he arrived by plane. An atomic plane, one invented by his old assistant Jan Mayen. It’s supposedly invisible to radar but they couldn’t hide it once it was on the ground. I’d like to take my own plane and fly it along the river’s length, looking for him. Once I find him, I’m prepared to deal with him and his allies personally. But his weapon—it generates a beam of light that destroys everything it touches. Just to be safe… I think you should evacuate the city, particularly the areas nearest the White House and the monuments.”

“That’s asking quite a lot.”

“You know you can trust me, Benson. You helped get the police off my back and I’ll always appreciate that. Since then, I’ve been able to help a hell of a lot more people than I would have otherwise. So believe me when I say that I know how hard this is: you’d be putting your faith in a man who just told you his dead father told him this information. But I could have come here and lied. I could have told you that I’d found this out from an informant or that I’d personally heard Sun Koh describe his plans. I chose not to do that because I didn’t want to lie to you, even if it meant you might not believe me.”

Benson looked back outside and finally gave a curt nod. “I’ll speak to the President myself. I think I can convince him to evacuate the White House and close the monuments and museums for a few days. The press can simply be told that we’ve uncovered a plot by Fifth Columnists. There’s simply not way I can do more than that—the panic that would ensue if we evacuated the entire city would be immeasurable. How long do you think you’ll need?”

“Two or three days should be more than enough.” Max stood up and approached Benson. He offered a hand in thanks, suspecting that Benson wouldn’t take it. The man seemed to eschew physical contact. To his great surprise, Max felt Benson clasp his hand, squeezing it in a firm grip.

“You’re a good man, Max Davies,” Benson said. “Too many men in your position, with your wealth, would focus on personal happiness to the extent that they wouldn’t apply themselves to helping make the world a better place. Most men don’t apply themselves to bettering their surroundings until they’ve suffered a terrible loss, one that makes them view things differently.”

Max swallowed, knowing some of Benson’s back-story. “Thank you. That means a lot to me.”

Benson dropped his hand and moved towards his desk, picking up the handset of his phone. “Miss Grey. Get me the President, please.”

Max gave a wave as he exited the office, grateful beyond words. Sometimes it paid to have friends in high places.

* * *

Evelyn unlocked the doorway to her husband’s private lair and, after making sure no one was watching, she descended the steps into The Peregrine’s Nest. The name was a bit overly dramatic for a secret hideout hidden in a storm cellar, she had always thought. Then again, given the wide variety of equipment stored inside, it probably did deserve a better name than “the basement.”

The Peregrine’s Nest was where Max did his tinkering on gadgets, his scientific experiments and updated his files on criminals both great and small. There were details here that could sink political aspirations and ruin marriages, amongst other, even darker, things.

Evelyn had been somewhat soothed by a brief call from Max, who had told her all was well and that he was almost finished with his business. She’d known he was lying from the start. He had that vague quality to his speech that he always gained when he was concerned about worrying her. It was insulting, she mused, that he continued to sometimes treat her like she was too fragile to handle the truth.

Of course, if he had been totally upfront about his troubles, he’d probably have assumed that Evelyn would go off and do something foolish in an attempt to aid him.

Which, of course, was exactly what she was going to do.

Evelyn walked past a mannequin that wore her own adventuring clothes. She had a small domino mask similar to Max’s and set of padded clothes that helped her resist the blows and small-arms fire that inevitably came her way when she helped her husband on his nocturnal adventures. She had found it an interesting way of bonding with him early in their relationship and she’d definitely gotten a rush out of it from time to time. But she’d also realized how foolhardy it was to put her life on the line again and again. It was only a matter of time before someone snuffed out her candle, so to speak. She wasn’t like Max—he’d trained for this almost his entire life. Being a flexible young girl who watched what she ate didn’t really prepare her for dodging bullets.

Evelyn sat down in front of Max’s filing cabinet, unlocking with one of only two keys in the world that would do so. The locks were rigged with acid, so that if anyone attempted to pick them or otherwise force them open, the contents of the cabinet would be dissolved before they could be read. The other key was, of course, in Max’s own possession.

Inside she found folder after folder detailing the many criminals that The Peregrine had encountered over the years. Many of them were amongst the worst the world had ever produced: The Warlike Manchu, Doctor Satan, Jacob Trench, Rasputin and Prof. Lycos. Those were just a small taste of the madmen that The Peregrine had faced and Evelyn had been at his side for most of them.

A much smaller, though still quite detailed, set of papers lay beyond those. These listed other mystery men and vigilantes that The Peregrine considered allies in his war on crime. Men and women like Leonid Kaslov, Ascott Keane, The Domino Lady and The Black Bat were included in these pages, which listed not only their contact information but also their observed strengths and weaknesses. That was something that Max naturally did—looking at human beings and sizing them up, breaking them down into strengths and weaknesses. AT first, Evleyn had been slightly disturbed to discover that about her husband but in the end, she knew that it was simply how he saw the world, always preparing for potential threats.

Evelyn ignored all of those, instead choosing a small manila folder that lay flat on the back of the cabinet. It was completely unmarked and was sealed with packaging tape. She felt along the tape and quickly realized that she would never be able to tear it open with just her fingernails. She looked around and spotted a small cutting knife and quickly used it to slice open the envelope. She emptied the contents of the folder into her right hand, her eyes glittering when a single object dropped heavily into her palm.

It was a crucifix, dating back to the 13th century. Made of iron, it was quite heavy when worn. A plain chain link necklace was fitted through the crucifix. The Peregrine had picked it up a few years back, lifting it from a criminal aptly dubbed The Mad Monk. It was part of a paired set, the other piece being a much smaller version that Max now sometimes wore in one of his coat pockets. It wasn’t that Max was particularly religious—it was simply that the mystical qualities of the crucifix sets were too powerful to ignore. Whoever held the larger of the two could be teleported to the side of the person carrying the smaller. The Mad Monk had used them to keep track of his mistress, whom he frequently accused of straying. Max had told given the larger of the two crucifixes to Evelyn as a way of placating her, so that she could always find him in an emergency. But she didn’t carry it around with her because of its weight… and because the device carried a taint of its own, making it a bit dangerous.