Just Cause Universe 3: Day of the Destroyer (21 page)

“Are we in danger here?” The idea of a serial killer made Gretchen feel very small.

“I don’t think so. But just to be safe, we’ll be indoors before it gets late.”

“At Just Cause headquarters,” added Gretchen.

“Huh?”

She held up the entry passes for display. “Tonight, after we eat. And you’re going with me.”

“I am?”

“Every superhero needs a sidekick,” she said. “I’m learning more and more about my power. I think maybe I could be part of their team, so long as they can help me with my problem.”

“With what?”

Gretchen didn’t answer immediately. The thought of talking about Donny made her feel a little ill, but Shane had been so kind to her all day that she felt she owed him. “What I did to that guy. With my powers.” Tears threatened, but Gretchen forced herself to stay in control. Nobody was making her tell Shane; she wanted to, because she knew she could trust him. “I—I killed him.” she said in a rush.

“I may just be a stupid Con Ed guy,” said Shane, “but even I can see that somebody messed you up. I’d say he got what he deserved.”

Gretchen shook her head. “No, nobody deserves to die like that.”

“Easy, girl. I’m on your side here.”

“Are you, Shane?”

He squeezed her hand. “Of course I am. You’re my cousin’s best friend. You’ve been great company today. You even kind of saved my life. Far as I’m concerned, you’re perfect hero material.”

Gretchen couldn’t speak, but she stood on tiptoes to kiss Shane’s cheek.

“You want to go to Just Cause, we’ll go there as soon as we’re done with dinner,” he said.

“Thank you for understanding. Thank you for everything.”

Shane beamed.

Chapter Twelve

July 13, 1977, 8:00 PM

“Wish I’d known you were that way, Faith. I’d have made a play for you.” Javier grinned around a toothpick he rolled in his lips like a cigarette.

“What do you mean,
that way
?” Faith didn’t like the implication in Javier’s words.

“A swinger. A player. Giving up tail to more than one
hombre
.” His eyes narrowed. “Or whatever Rick is.”

“God, you are such an asshole,” said Faith, terrified that her near-indiscretion with Lionheart would get back to Bobby somehow.

Javier shrugged. “Maybe you need an asshole to make you feel more like a woman. What’s the matter? Bobby can’t get it up so much anymore?” Javier pointed at his crotch suggestively. “Still plenty of iron in this. You ought to be flattered by the attention.”

“Flattered?” Faith spluttered, so beside herself she couldn’t form any more words.

“Least you still got a tight body. All running does wonders for that ass. You want to feel the touch of a specialist in it, you know where to find me.” Javier chuckled as he walked away.

A tear of fury squeezed out of one eye as Faith balled her fists. She could have charged him, beaten him to a pulp before he could blink, but all that would accomplish would be to get her removed from active duty and charged with assault using parapowers. The Devereaux Foundation that operated and managed Just Cause didn’t tolerate its members brawling with one another or with non-powered opponents . Before taking over the team leadership role, back when Lady Athena still ran the show, Lionheart had lost his temper and attacked the veteran hero Flashpoint. Lionheart was suspended from active duty for six months and Flashpoint had to retire from an active role in Just Cause due to his injuries.

One super-speed-fueled punch would have knocked Javier ass over teakettle, but the momentary satisfaction would pale when Faith had to serve her own suspension or worse. So she swallowed her pride and stalked away, determined not to let a womanizing drug addict get under her skin.

She didn’t mean to wind up back in the coordination center with Lionheart, but her angry feet carried her there so she flopped into a chair. To deal with her nervous energy, she grabbed a pen and twirled it through her fingers until it blurred.

“You’re making me seasick watching you,” said Lionheart.

“Then don’t watch me,” snapped Faith. Then she felt bad at her outburst. “I’m sorry, that was uncalled for. That asshole Javier has me all twisted up.”

Lionheart smiled, showing his pointed teeth. “I couldn’t not watch you if I tried. What did he do this time?”

“He came on to me.”

“Want me to tear his throat out?”

“Yes, please.”

Lionheart pushed his chair back, spread his claws, and started to stand up.

Faith was beside him in a flash. “No, silly.”

“I’d have to suspend myself,” he said. “On the other hand, I haven’t had a vacation in six years. I’ve got to have a few months accrued by now. I’m thinking someplace warm, with big skies and open fields. Want to go to Kenya?”

Faith laughed. “I can’t go to Kenya with you, Rick. I’m married.”

He growled in the back of his throat. “I know.”

She thought how easy it would be to give herself over to her lust. Maybe they should sleep together, just so they could be over the unrequited attraction. But she knew he would be like a drug; the first time would be hardest, and after that it would get easier and easier. She didn’t want to go down that road and lose her husband.

Maybe she was stronger than that, she thought. She took Lionheart’s head in her hands. His great paws closed about her wrists and he turned his head to brush hot lips against her palm. It sent shivers all the way down her spine and made a muscle in her ass twitch. “Oh, God,” she moaned as she buried her fingers in his soft mane.

“
Rick, you there
?” Bobby’s voice from the radio made Faith jump.

Lionheart shook himself and picked up the microphone. “Yeah, Bobby. Go ahead.”

“
The Feds kicked down the door into Clemens’ apartment. I guess they don’t believe in warrants when it comes to dangerous parahumans
.”

“Did you catch Gumm?”

“
No, but she was definitely here. There’s a bag with Elizabeth Hague’s name on it. Wasn’t that the girl Faith interviewed
?”

Faith nodded. Lionheart confirmed it to Bobby.

“
Listen, we might have just missed them, within minutes. The goddamn shower’s still dripping. Towel is damp and there were long blonde hairs in the drain
.”

“You’re a regular Steve McGarrett,” said Lionheart. “Are you sure it was our fugitive?”

“
The Feds think so, and I have to say there’s too much circumstantial evidence here when you combine it with what Faith found out. There’s a note here, presumably written by Clemens to his roommate, saying his girlfriend will be staying with them for a few days until she finds work and a place of her own
.”

“Damn, she moves fast. Any idea where the two went?”

“
No. Kojak and Crocker are knocking on doors, but nobody’s seen anything. Shit, most everybody around here’s watching TV by this time of night
.”

“Long as you’re looking around, did they cook anything? Fresh takeout cartons?”

“
I thought of that too. Either they did dishes right after they ate and already put them away, or they didn’t eat here
.”

“Maybe they’re at a nearby restaurant.”

“
Sure, there are only about three hundred in walking distance, and that doesn’t take into account if they took a cab or hopped on a subway
.”

“And you don’t want to bring in a bunch of uniformed cops and tip them off if they’re nearby.” Lionheart scratched at his mane. Static electricity popped off it in the dry air.

“
Right. The Feds are probably going to wait here to see if they come back. I think I’ve done about all I can do to help. Besides, I kind of think I’m cramping their style. You know, by expecting them to follow the law and shit
.”

Lionheart snorted. “Feds. Okay, you may as well come back in.” He glanced at Faith and shrugged. “It’s Wednesday, and people are already starting to show up. Wouldn’t be right to have a party without our Master of Ceremonies in attendance.”

“
Ha ha ha
.” Bobby sounded anything but amused. “
I’m on my way. Set some earplugs out for me
.”

#

Harlan sat on his bed, dressed only in a pair of ratty old shorts he used as pajamas. The heat in his room was stifling, even with the window open. Droplets of sweat congealed on his skin and trickled down his chest and sides. Legs folded beneath him, he stared without seeing out at the distant clouds and occasional streaks of lightning leaping between them.

In his hands, he held the only tool Momma had left him, because he’d had it hidden. It was an old Swiss Army knife, the first tool he’d ever owned. Irlene had given it to him as a Christmas present when he was ten. He kept it under the corner of his mattress. Sometimes, when he’d have bad dreams, he’d reach down, feel the cool plastic shell, and know things would be all right.

The knife was a beacon of sanity that penetrated the dull, thick fog in his brain to keep his mind from whirling with barely-repressed fury and creative energy. The very act of destruction seemed to fuel his thoughts, but after Momma destroyed everything he’d worked for at home, as he cradled the knife, he felt composed.

The day’s events seemed to have been pushing him toward a major life change, like a baby about to emerge from the womb. Perhaps this trauma of his lost books was just one more in a series of birthing pains. Fate was making him sever ties to his past—first the carousel he had made for Reggie, then Gonsalvo, losing Gretchen, and now his books.

Put away childish things, he thought; perhaps today he would become a man. Lightning flared again in the distance, a bright questing tendril from the heavens to the Earth. It awakened something in Harlan, vitalized him. He took a deep, cleansing breath and blew it out, feeling an abnormal sense of peace and joy fill him.

He got up from his bed and went to his open window. Great clouds towered in the distance like the engines of the Earth, sparking with power. Down below on the street, people performed their intricate ballet of errands, games, and socializing. Harlan shook his head in sadness. It was all well and good to see the organization, but it was from chaos and disorder that society evolved. Like Harlan had taken his broken bicycle and built something newer and better, society’s potential for improvement was vast.

Something—or someone—just needed to break it first.

Harlan left his room and went to look in on Reggie. She slept on top of her sheets in a thin cotton nightgown. Her hair was pulled into clumps so Momma could style it in the morning and she clutched her stuffed elephant like a raggedy security blanket. He listened to her soft, rhythmic snores. She was at peace; nothing ever bothered Reggie. Even in the middle of the crisis Momma had caused, Reggie had kept a cool head and saved some of Harlan’s prized possessions.

He reached out and touched her cheek with a tenderness he didn’t know he’d possessed. She moaned and murmured something in her sleep but didn’t awaken. Something about her vulnerability moved him, and he made a promise that somehow, some way, he would always look after her.

In the new world, the one he would create, she’d have a real elephant if she wanted it.

He wished he knew more about love and affection. Perhaps he could find Gretchen and she could teach him. He didn’t know where she was now, but sooner or later she’d be at Just Cause, and Harlan would find her there. Until then, he touched Reggie’s cheek once more and stole out of the room.

Momma had fallen asleep in front of the television, as usual. She sat in her recliner, feet up, a drink at her elbow. On the flickering screen, Grizzly Adams talked to his bear. Every time Harlan noticed that show, the man was talking to his stupid bear. Harlan couldn’t understand the appeal. Most shows that masqueraded as entertainment mystified him. Maybe someday there would be something worth watching. In the meantime, television was as effective an opiate for the masses as religion was. He’d read something about that in a book by Karl Marx, who had some interesting ideas even if most of them were still over Harlan’s head.

Momma’s head was tilted back and her mouth open. She either snored or gurgled in the back of her throat. Harlan stared at her, reaching deep into his soul to see if he felt the least bit of compassion for the woman who’d birthed him. No. He hated her. She’d taken everything he cared about and ruined it: his tools, his books, Gretchen. She’d never loved him, or understood him. She hadn’t even tried. He was never good enough for her. He closed his eyes. A tiny voice in his mind begged him to reconsider his choices, but he squashed it like a bug underfoot. He’d never been one to listen to his conscience, anyway.

With one swift, decisive motion, he drew the blade out of his Swiss Army knife and slit Momma’s throat.

#

The boy left the bathroom ahead of Tommy, which suited him just fine. He’d gotten what he’d needed, and the boy’s name didn’t fall in the realm of need-to-know information. He had been pliant and willing to please Tommy for his fifty dollars, and Tommy could still taste the boy’s sweet skin on his lips. He fixed his hair and tied it back again into a neat ponytail. A splash of cool water on the back of his sweaty neck helped to rejuvenate him.