The One Million Word Project

[csyphrett]

Button Pushing 

2015-

6

Tanner walked outside, pretending to make a phone call. He walked slowly until he
was out of sight of the desk. Then he ran to the parking garage entrance hooked to the
hotel. He put his phone away and slid under the guard arm.

 

He jogged to the elevator/stairs combo inside a glass room. He frowned at the key
card lock on the door. He didn’t want to bypass the lock and then wait until the 
power ran out so he could call Iceberg.

 

He could key in Iceberg and smash the door. He didn’t want to do that. It wasn’t the
hotel’s fault that their guests had attracted a vigilante.

 

He needed to do something to get around the lock. He didn’t know how much time
he had before Givens was moved to a new location.

 

He decided to key in his mechanical again. He opened the lock with a simple touch
of his hand. He plugged into the network camera and programmed the digital recorder
not to accept his image. It wasn’t foolproof but it was the best he could do at the
moment.

 

He headed up the stairs for two reasons. He didn’t want to get trapped in the elevator
when the Men in Black started shooting at him again with their fireballs. The
explosions would kill him with the mechanical power activated. And he needed to use
up the mechanical so he could key in another power that would be helpful in this
situation.

 

And as long as he had the mechanical operating, he could use the cameras in the halls
to keep track of his enemy when they decided to move out.

 

The church had to be the final destination. If he messed up here and lived, he could
race them there and try to stop whatever they planned to do. He doubted they would
be ready for him twice in a row.

 

He smiled at that thought. They had been taken offguard, but had already beat him
back twice. The third time might get him killed.

 

Tanner raced up the stairs, checking the timer as he cleared landings. At least all
this running around was helping him keep in shape. He idly wondered how many
calories he burned every time he activated a power as he reached the fifth floor.
He paused on the landing with his back against the wall as tried to catch his breath.

He needed to do more step running when he got home.

 

The timer ran out as he felt his heart beat slowly normalize. Now came the tricky part.
He had to walk down to the rooms in question, take out any guards, and escape with
the hostage. Bystanders could be hurt if he didn’t act fast enough.

 

Explosions in the rooms were almost as bad as getting caught in the elevator. If any
pierced a wall, there was no telling who would get hurt in the other room. And he had
to consider that the building would be set on fire by near misses.

 

He walked toward the room, hand hovering over the keyboard. He wanted to give
himself any extra second he could before he went into the fight. If he ran out in the
middle, he was as good as dead.

 

He took a deep breath before he keyed in Iceberg and covered the peephole with a
sheen of ice. He knocked on the door with a crystalline hand. He wanted one of them
to open the door so he didn’t have to break it in.

 

A guard tried to peer through the peephole. His shadow was visible behind the cover
of ice.

 

“Who is it?,” the guard asked.

 

“Room service for a Givens,” said Tanner. His voice echoed slightly. There was
nothing he could do about that.

 

“Givens?,” said the guard. He opened the door for the ice sculpture in the hall. A
stony fist crashed against his face and he went down without shooting.

 

Tanner stepped over him into the hotel room. He counted three of the guys. He had
to work fast before they got their weapons into play.

 

Tanner took aim and fired nets of ice with his hands at the three men. He smiled as
they went down in icy embraces. They were out of his hair while he checked on
Givens.

 

He rushed to the inner door of the suite. He wondered where the rest of the men were,
but hoped he had gotten lucky. Maybe they were out doing a food run instead of
getting room service. Maybe they had been dismissed until they were needed later.
How many men did it take to guard a kid in the first place?

 

He pushed the door open. A man sat in the middle of the bedroom at a desk. Pots
decorated the top of the desk. A smell filled the air. He fought down his gagging
as he looked around.

 

“Where’s the kid?,” demanded Tanner. He raised a hand so he could use his ice power
instantly if he had to shoot the guy.

 

The man stood, dark eyes staring at the intruder. Several scars formed a complex
patch on his cheek. His sleeves were rolled up, exposing stains on his hands and
forearms. Dark hair lined with gray had been braided and left to fall behind him.

 

“I see my men underestimated you,” said the man. “No one thought you would be
able to track them to this place.”

 

“The boy?,” said Tanner. He didn’t have time to have a chat with a crazy guy.

 

“Is not your concern,” said the man. He held up a hand in a gesture of negation. Paints
stained the fingers. “He is going to be my weapon when everything is done. Save
yourself some trouble and go away before you are hurt.”

 

Tanner frowned. Did he have the nerve to take on a painter in the middle of a hotel
room for the life of a boy he didn’t know? What would he do if there was some other
thing at stake.

 

Ice leaped from his hand. He didn’t need to talk to the guy if the church was the
endpoint for all this. He could take him, and turn him over to the FBI after he got
Givens back.

 

They could sort everything out without his involvement after that point.

 

The painter waved his hand. The ice blast bounced into the wall and covered it in
whiteness.

 

“You should have heeded the warning,” said the painter. He made a twisting motion
with his hand. A fist of rushing air slammed into Tanner. He hit the ground and tried
to roll away from the impact. Years of fighting Darla had taught him that much.

 

He produced a wall to protect him from the rushing air. It circled around the ice and
slammed into him. He went through the window in an explosion of glass.

 

Tanner headed for the street. He wondered if he would live through the impact.

His ice power faded and he reached for his keyboard. He still had a chance if he
keyed in the right thing while still high enough.

 

An arm wrapped around him and yanked him through the air. He grabbed hold of
the arm with both hands as his rescuer swung him to a ledge at the corner of the hotel.

 

“I know things are bad, but there’s no reason to jump,” said his rescuer.

 

“I didn’t jump,” said Tanner. Gratefulness turned into irritation in a second. “I was
pushed. Now I have to get up there and stop the guy who pushed me.”

 

“Leave this to the professional,” said the girl in the costume.

 

“I am a professional,” said Tanner. He keyed in his Gold Man form. “I have to go.
Nice meeting you.”

 

He grabbed the window frame with an elongated arm. He yanked himself up to the
window. He flung himself into the outer room. His three captives laid where he had
left them. They struggled against the ice, but hadn’t been able to break out of their
bond yet.

 

Where was the painter? How much time did they have before he did whatever he
wanted to Givens?

 

Tanner tried to breathe through his anxiety. He should have dragged Darla along.
She would have blasted the guy with her eyebeam before he said one word.

 

“You want to tell me what’s going on?,” said the girl in the costume. “Maybe I can
help out, and I know some people who could help out if this is too big for me.”

 

“Saved many people, have you?,” said Tanner. He went to the door and looked out
in the hall. The painter was nowhere in sight. Would he use the elevator or the stairs?

 

“Saved you,” she returned. She crossed her arms as she looked at him. Her mask was
a dark green blank with protective spots where the eyes should be in her face.

 

“Okay,” said Tanner. “That’s a good point.”

 

He headed down the hall. The elevator was not moving. Did that mean the painter
was using the stairs, or had he already used the elevator to reach the exits on the
bottom floor?

 

Had he gone down to the ground floor?

 

Which way should he go?

 

“Let’s try the roof,” said the girl. “Maybe we can spot him from there.”

 

“Okay,” said Tanner. He pulled open the door. “Why are you tagging along?”

 

“I’m still waiting for my explanation and my thank you,” she said.

 

“Seriously?,” said Tanner.

 

“Seriously,” she replied.

 

“Thank you,” said Tanner. He stepped into the stairwell and used the Gold Man to
climb the center space of the stairwell toward the roof.

 

She flung out a line and let it pull her up after him. When she reached where the line
had anchored itself, she threw out another one.

 

They pushed open the roof door and headed for the edges. If they could grab the
painter, they could trade him for Givens. Grabbing him seemed the hardest part of
that statement in Tanner’s opinion.

 

“Who am I looking for?,” said the masked girl.

 

“Guy with long hair in a braid, scar on face, vaguely Middle Eastern,” said Tanner.

 

“You’re chasing Amenophis?,” she said. “You’re braver than I thought.”

 

“Who’s that?,” said Tanner. He spared a glance at her.

 

“But not ready for this,” she said. “Amenophis is the number three guy wanted by
most of the Middle East governments. A lot of guys have taken him on and gotten
hurt.”

 

“Wait, what?,” said Tanner.

 

“He’s a shark, you’re a guppy,” said the girl. “You’re going to get killed chasing him.
I’ll call my dad and he can take over for us. He’s dealt with Amenophis a few times.
He’ll know what to do about this.”

 

Tanner thought about the offer. It was tempting to just give up. He could go home and
let someone else rescue Givens. He would be back under the radar. He would prefer
that to dealing with a world power.

 

Then his selfish streak kicked in. This was his job. He couldn’t just hand it over to
strangers and let them muff it up worse than what he was already doing.

 

“Thanks,” said Tanner. The Gold Man wore off. “Someone’s life is at stake. I can’t
wait for someone to take over for me. I have to keep going with what I have.”

 

“Wait,” said the girl. She held up a gloved hand. “My dad really can help us.”

 

“You’re out of this,” said Tanner. “I’ll figure out how to deal with Amenophis if I
have to do that. I just want to free his victim.”

 

Tanner pressed the Sky Rocket keys. He blasted from the roof before she could stop
him. He knew that was what she wanted to do. He beat her to the punch to get away.

He decided to head back to the church. That was the likeliest place the painter would
show up. He had to come up with a power to get through his control of the air and
take him down. It didn’t need to be more than few minutes, but it had to be done in
such a way he couldn’t interfere with getting Givens back.

 

Tanner tried to avoid hitting too many buildings as he cut across town. He felt the
power petering out and aimed for a roof he could use for a crash landing. He hit a 
ventilation unit before the timer marked the exhaustion of the power. He laid there
for a minute before climbing to his feet.

 

He pulled out his phone. He asked Google for his current location. He smiled at the
red arrow. He asked for the location for the church. He was still blocks away.

 

He put the phone away and keyed in the Gold Man again. He grabbed a flagpole and
swung out in space. He grabbed another flagpole further along and dropped to a roof
to the right of and below the pole. He stretched his legs out as he jumped over the
gaps between buildings. Once he was close to the church, he paused to assess the
situation.

 

The Gold Man blinked out as he studied the street. He didn’t see any of the Men in
Black. That didn’t mean anything. They could be inside the church, getting ready
to do whatever they planned to do to Givens.

 

He needed a way in, and he needed something that could handle them.

 

He was tired of losing every fight he had with Amenophis and his followers.

 

He noted the church had a bell tower. He could get in there with the Gold Man, or the
Wings. Then he could descend down into the church. That’s when the fighting would
start.

 

He needed to act fast if he wanted to take down Amenophis. His minions could be
dangerous, but they hadn’t demonstrated the ability to manhandle him.

 

He changed to the Gold Man as he eyed the bell tower. He could get in there. He just
needed some kind of handhold. He couldn’t stretch his body across the intervening
space.

 

He pushed back to get running room. He ran forward and leaped. His arms and body
stretched out as far as he could extend them as he flew through space. One hand hit
the window frame and grabbed hold. The arm retracted, pulling him away from a fall
in the street.

 

He checked the timer as he bundled underneath the bell in the tower. He had a small
amount of time to get things before he was helpless. He pulled open the trap door
leading down from the belfry. A ladder greeted him. He extended his body to take a
look around at the vertical space. No one was in sight.

 

He descended toward the ground.
//147333

[csyphrett]

Button Pushing

2015-

7

Tanner checked the main room of the building. Men in black suits blocked the main
access down to the room below the church. He had to get by them before he could try
to stop whatever Amenophis was doing to Givens.

 

He checked his timer as he pulled back. The Gold Man was almost out of time. Did
he want to call it back, or resort to another form? He needed a shooter to get through
the forces acting as a barrier. If he went with brute force, they would pour fire into his
altered form until he was down.

 

He couldn’t afford a delay. Givens might already be close to dead by now. He had to
make a decision and make his move.

 

He checked his options as he poured over the powers he had unlocked. He had
literally dozens of abilities that could be generated by the keyboard. If he moved up
to the fourth key despite the warning he had been given, he might have more powers
he had never used, or combinations of what he was already using into something new.

He decided on the Shooter. It was straight forward, and the ammo might punch
through whatever skill Amenophis was using as his shield. He keyed in the call.

The change washed over Tanner. He flexed his hands. Guns flickered as he pretended
he held weapons. He nodded.

 

He stepped out of the door leading to the belfry. He rushed forward.  Blasts of sound
struck the guards like hammers in front of the charging vigilante. That was enough
to put them down as he ran toward them.

 

Tanner used the guns on the door leading downstairs. He wanted them thinking about
him, and not what they were going to do with the stolen kid.

 

The door sprouted holes before it jumped out of the way. No one shot back from the
other side of the door.

 

Tanner paused at the door, taking cover behind the wall next to the opening. He heard
chanting. Whatever was going on was happening. He had to get downstairs and stop
it before Givens was gone for good.

 

He took a deep breath. He could do this. The Shooter still had plenty of time and if
he took out some of the rats, that was the price he would have to pay.

 

Tanner headed down the stairs, hands at the ready. Fireballs tried to set him on fire
halfway down the steps. He fired back as he looked for cover. He hopped over a rail,
and shot two men while they were still trying to set him on fire.

 

Men in robes stood around the table. They held jars in front of them as they chanted.
Givens had been forced into a skirt of some kind. He pulled on the chains holding
him to the disguised altar.

 

Tanner decided the quickest way to end things was to smash the jars. Once free of
contents, the jars would be useless.

 

“What are you doing here?,” Amenophis stepped out of the shadows. He had changed
his shirt and pants for a metal collar and a belted skirt. “You are in the way of my
creating.”

 

“Stuff happens,” said Tanner. He noted a wave of air heading his way. He threw
himself forward, firing from both hands as he fell.

 

His slugs ripped through the jars, shattering them in the hands of the acolytes. The

men fell back as tendrils of energy whipped into the open air.

 

“What have you done?,” screamed Amenophis. Green light erupted from his eyes.
“What have you done?”

 

“Ruined your plan,” said the Scarab Girl. She shot him with an expanding net from
a channel in the back of her gauntlet. “Sit down while we try to fix the rest of this.”

 

The tendrils leaped to where Givens had been chained down. They entered his mouth
before anyone could do anything to stop them.

 

“I don’t think that’s good at all,” said Tanner. He shot one of the acolytes in the leg
to get him out of the way. “What were you guys doing?”

 

The cocoon split apart as Amenophis pulled the threads apart with his bare hands. He
glared at the interloping kids. Scarab Girl shot him with more of the net shells until
he was completely buried in the webbing.

 

Givens exploded from his chains. He looked around with eyes on fire, and a smile
that was way too wide for a human boy.

 

“Greetings, humans,” said the transformed Givens. “It is excellent to have a human
body again. Sharing it with these others is a trial, but I will get used to it eventually,
I suppose.”

 

“What about the boy?,” asked Tanner. He shot one of his opponents too dumb to
run for it in the foot. He kicked the hopping man out of his way. “He has a life.”

 

“Not anymore,” said the new Givens. “I had to eat him to become the king of this
conglomeration.”

 

“You killed Givens?,” asked Tanner. He raised his hands. He still had time to deal
with this monster. It couldn’t be allowed to escape after all this.

 

“Essentially,” said the monster. “I didn’t need him getting in the way while I took
control. And with the spellwork in place, it was tremendously easy.”

 

Tanner shot the body in front of him. He had failed to save Givens. He wasn’t going
to see him being used as a puppet by a gloating thing.

 

The bullet bounced off a stone chest. Givens smiled even wider if that was possible.
He threw a sheet of flame at Tanner and Scarab Girl. He could have fun with these
two.

 

Tanner threw himself to the side. His Shooter ability gave him an insight on where
things would move and that was enough to let him jump out of the way of the blast.

 

Foam wrapped the floating boy. A spark flickered as it tried to fight through the
confinement. A green boot landed in the angry face trying to set things on fire.

 

“My dad knows an exorcist,” said Scarab Girl. “We’ll get you out of there and put
you back in your jars.”

 

Tanner winced at that. He had destroyed the jars in his haste. He should have shot
the jar holders.

 

The web cocoon ripped apart to allow Amenophis to step forward. He glared at the
two children who dared to oppose him. The foam on the other side of the room
exploded under a waterspout.

 

The Shooter ran out of time to some cursing.

 

“My revivalist,” said Givens. “You have done some good work.”

 

“I will have to start over from the look of it,” said Amenophis. “The plan was for you

to be my weapon. Running amuck was not part of that.”

 

“No one gets what they want all the time,” said Givens. He directed water at his
creator. It evaporated in the air as it crossed the room.

 

“I do,” said Amenophis. He gestured. Givens screamed in pain. He hit the ground,
writhing. “I don’t think I need to explain your place in the scheme of things.”

 

“He’s getting exorcized,” said Tanner. He gestured with a hand. The table came to life
and charged Amenophis. The magician paused for a moment, and then the table had
rammed him into the wall. The legs did their best to kick him while he was down.

 

Givens writhed on the floor. Tanner wanted to help him. This was all his fault. If he
hadn’t shattered the jars, none of this would have happened. Givens rolled so that
they could see his smiling face. Then he slapped the stone floor with the palm of a
stony hand.

 

Ripples of stone formed a circle of spears spinning around Givens. They spun into a
stabbing ring at the two children. These heroic kids should not be allowed to grow up
to be heroic adults.

 

Scarab Girl swung over the moving fencework. She landed with both feet on Givens’s
head. She bounced away before he could set her on fire.

 

Tanner waved a hand. His ability worked against the control Givens exerted. A spear
started fighting its brothers to protect him. He breathed a sigh of relief as he tried to
think of a solution to this problem.

 

Amenophis hit him with the table after shrugging it off. He glared at the room. These
children had cost too much of his effort to create a perfect warrior. Was it worth to
kill them? He considered that as another shell flew at his head from Scarab Girl’s
wrist gun. He ducked under it. A net spread across the wall behind him.

 

The very least he should was rip the spirits out of Givens and put them into something
he could use as storage.

 

He grabbed a discarded bottle as he approached the spinning spears. His men had
retreated in the face of this. He didn’t want otherwise. It was better to handle this
himself than hope one of his men got lucky and saved the day without getting killed.

 

Amenophis flowed around the spears like a cloud of sand. He waved Scarab Girl out
of his way. She should have known better than to get involved in this. The Scarabs
and he were old enemies. Killing the latest wouldn’t raise a drop of sweat on his
brow.

 

Givens looked groggy. That was good. That made his exorcism all the easier. One
spoken command and a seal on the bottle should take care of things.

 

Once the spirits had been reclaimed, the boy would be as good as dead if the king
had spoken the truth. Destroying the boy would be the key to using his body, but
usually the spirit just pushed his ride’s mind under.

 

An exorcism might be enough to restore his mind.

 

If it was gone, that was a pity, but it didn’t concern Amenophis all that much.

Givens hit his creator with a stone fist. The magician flew across the room. The
changed boy stood. He saw the odds. It was him versus the three of them. He should
make his escape before Amenophis could make good on his threat.

 

He sent a wave of flame out as a distraction. He used the dancing spears to carry him
out of the room. His laughter drifted down on his enemies.

 

Scarab Girl checked Tanner. He seemed to be having problems focusing. She didn’t
want to take on Amenophis by herself. She didn’t see any way out of the
confrontation.

 

“That didn’t go near as well as I had planned,” said Amenophis. He brushed the blood
off his face with a flick of his hand. “I should kill you both for the trouble you have
caused.”

 

“Do you really want to waste your time while your perfect weapon is escaping?,”
said Scarab Girl.

 

“The next time we meet, it will end differently for you if you cross me,” said
Amenophis. “Don’t doubt that.”

 

“I look forward to the chance to cross swords with you again,” said Scarab Girl.

 

“Yes,” said Amenophis. He walked away from them. One hand brushed aside the
flame that reached for him.

 

“Are you awake?,” asked Scarab Girl. She slapped Tanner’s face. He blinked at
the impact. “Are you awake?”

 

“Hurt,” said Tanner. Pain ran through his back. He couldn’t move. He must have
taken a bigger hit than he thought. “Need a hand.”

 

“I’ll get you out of here,” said Scarab Girl. “Hold on.”

 

“No,” said Tanner. “Left hand. Left hand.”

 

“What?,” said Scarab Girl. “Left hand?”

“Yes,” said Tanner. “My hand.”

 

Scarab Girl picked up the hand. She saw a scarred fingerprint on his index finger.

 

“What do you want me to do with this?,” she asked.

 

“Right forearm,” said Tanner. “Need you to touch spaces with index finger.”

 

Scarab Girl shifted the other arm. Scars that looked like a keyboard ran down the
forearm from wrist to elbow.

 

“Top row, third space in,” said Tanner. “Index finger.”

 

She did what he wanted. The space flared under the skin. He gave her directions for
the other two keys. He pushed up to his knees.

 

“Looks like we lost,” Tanner said.

 

“But we’re alive,” said Scarab Girl. “Let’s get out here.”

//149377

[csyphrett]

Button Pushing

2015-

8

Scarab Girl put out the fire with more foam capsules from her gauntlet. She led the
way upstairs. Amenophis’s men had retreated with their master. There was no sign
of the changed Givens either.

 

“What am I going to tell Givens’s family back home?,” Tanner limped after his
colleague. The keyboard was fixing him up as he walked up to the main floor of
the church. “How do I explain this?”

 

“I don’t think you can,” said Scarab Girl. “Amenophis will be out of the country in
a few minutes. He can travel fast on his own. His men have scattered. We can look
for them but they won’t know anything beyond what we already know. If you say
anything at all, it will be to tell them that Amenophis took him. Then you’ll have to
explain how you know that.”

 

“I can’t tell them that,” said Tanner. “It means I have to tell them I caused his
transformation and possible death.”

 

“I know,” said Scarab Girl. “Someone is going to have to break the bad news to them.
If we don’t, they’ll be looking for him to come back.”

 

“He won’t be coming back from the way he was changed,” said Tanner. “Where
would he go if he stays in town?”

 

“I don’t know,” said Scarab Girl. “He’s probably in some bolthole he took from
someone else. New York has a ton of places for someone to hide if they want to get
away strong enough.”

 

“So both of them could be beyond our reach,” said Tanner.

 

Scarab Girl nodded.

 

“I screwed this up,” said Tanner. “If I hadn’t broken those jars, we could have
done something else to get Givens back.”

 

“Or he could have been turned into a mindless weapon, and used against us,” said
Scarab Girl. “My dad is going to kill me that I took on Amenophis without calling
him. I will be grounded.”

 

“Too bad,” said Tanner. “I called out of school sick. I’m going to have to forge a note
for my school.”

 

“Your parents will be looking for you,” said Scarab Girl.

 

“Not for another two hours,” said Tanner. “But if the school called their work, that
might be trouble for me.”

 

“I think we should explain things to my dad,” said Scarab Girl. “Maybe he can alert
the authorities where you live. They’ll take care of notifying the parents for you.”

 

“All right,” said Tanner. “That’ll help me out. Then I have to try to get home and lie
to my parents about what I have been doing all day.”

 

Scarab Girl shrugged. She had to make her own excuses for bailing out of the last
period in school. Luckily, her parents covered for her though they wanted her to not
patrol on her own until she was older.

 

Tanner’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out and checked to see who was
calling. He winced when he saw it was Darla. He definitely didn’t want to explain
things to her. He thought about ignoring the call. He grimaced and accepted the call.

 

“Hello, Darla,” he said.

 

“Where are you?,” she asked.

 

“Why?,” asked Tanner. He didn’t want to tell her he was in New York before he knew
why she was calling. They didn’t get along at the best of times. Why give her
ammunition?

 

“The Vice Principal was all over me about you calling in sick,” said Darla. “It’s
obvious you’re not sick. What’s going on?”

 

“I think I got someone killed,” said Tanner. “I have to meet Scarab Girl’s dad, then
the rest of this mess will be out of my hands.”

 

“That’s peachy keen,” said Darla. “Who’s Scarab Girl?”

 

“She’s a local heroine,” said Tanner. “I’ll explain everything when I get home.”

 

“You better hurry up with your business,” said Darla. “Mr. Butthead might be trying
to call your parents to check on you by now.”

 

“Thanks, Darla,” said Tanner. “I’ll be home as soon as I can.”

 

He cut the connection and put his phone up. He grimaced at the thought that the
school was trying to catch him pretending to be sick. What was going on with Roland
Givens? Had anybody missed him being in class? Had anyone noticed the fight that
had happened outside the school grounds?

 

What did he do about that?

 

“Let’s talk to my dad,” said Scarab Girl. “Maybe he will have something for you to
use.”

 

“Thanks,” said Tanner.

 

“Let me call him,” said Scarab Girl. “We can meet at Good Eats.”

 

“Good Eats?,” said Tanner.

 

“A diner my dad and his friends use to meet,” said Scarab Girl. “He probably won’t
like meeting you in civs.”

 

“I understand,” said Tanner. “I thought about a mask and costume, but I couldn’t
decide on what I wanted.”

 

“I can see that,” said Scarab Girl. She touched the side of her hood with a finger.
“Can you hear me, Dad? I need to talk to you in person.”

 

She bent her head as she listened to the radio in her mask.

 

“I have a guest from out of town with me,” said Scarab Girl. “We had some trouble
with Amenophis.”

 

She nodded.

 

“We’re fine, but things didn’t go our way,” said Scarab Girl. “We need to talk to you
so we can hash this out.”

 

She shrugged as she listened.

 

“We’ll meet you at Cassie’s,” said Scarab Girl. “Then he has to head home. His
parents don’t know yet.”

 

She nodded again.

 

“I understand,” said Scarab Girl. “We’ll be there in a few minutes.”

 

She cut the connection.

 

“We’re meeting at Good Eats,” said Scarab Girl. “He’s not too thrilled by this.”

 

“I can see why,” said Tanner. “We’re about to dump a huge mess in his lap.”

 

“He’s used to that,” said Scarab Girl. “It’s you he’s not thrilled by.”

 

“That’s no surprise,” said Tanner.

 

“Follow me,” said Scarab Girl.

 

She took aim with an arm. She fired a line from her gauntlet. It pulled her into the air
with a yank on the thread.

 

Tanner checked the timer on his arm. It was almost done. He needed one more
healing spell. He could do that later after meeting Scarab Girl’s dad. That should be
a hoot.

 

He jogged after the swinging heroine until the timer ran out. He put on his wings and
leaped into the air. He flew after as she crossed Manhattan. She dropped down on
what looked like an old diner in the middle of some skyscrapers. He swooped in for
a landing just as his timer ran out. He landed on the roof a little harder than he meant.

 

“You need to work on the landings, Transformer Boy,” said Scarab Girl. He sensed
she was smiling at him under her mask.

 

“I never found a way to change the timer,” said Tanner. “I don’t like to fly unless it’s
for short hops. High enough in the air that the fall will kill you is hard to judge
against the time it will take me to dial a new power while falling.”

 

“Experience?,” she asked.

 

“Yeah,” said Tanner. He had misjudged the first time and almost killed himself
with a car that he just missed when his new power kicked in.

 

“I have had a couple close calls myself,” said Scarab Girl. “That’s why I’m still
in training.”

 

“You‘re supposed to be in school,” said a figure in scarlet and silver dropping on
the roof of the diner. “You know better than to ditch.”

 

“Dad, this is Transformer Boy,” said Scarab Girl. “This is my dad.”

 

“My name is Tanner, Mr. Scarab,” said Tanner. “I’m sorry about all this.”

 

“Tell me what’s going on,” said the Scarlet Scarab. “I’ll see what I can do to fix the
problem.”

 

Tanner told him what had happened from the time he tried to stop Roland Givens
from being taken to the fight in the basement of the church, and how Amenophis and
Givens had both escaped.

 

“Not good,” said the Scarab. He hooked thumbs in his belt. “We can report them
but no one will believe that the victim had suffered a personality change.”

 

“His family should know,” said Tanner. “I don’t know what I can say at this point.
I thought this would be an easy rescue.”

 

“Amenophis keeps his head down and avoids as many entanglements as he can,” said
the Scarab. “If you never dealt with him before, he can throw down a lot of heat
before you realize what’s going on.”

 

“What do we do about the kid?,” asked Tanner. “He’s wandering around out of his
mind.”

 

“We start a search for him,” said the Scarab. “If the spirits are running him, there’s
not much we can do. He’ll be looking out for us looking for him. They aren’t going
to want to be pulled out when they are mobile and can run things any way they want.”

 

“So we have to wait for him to start doing whatever spirits want to do,” said Tanner.
He sighed. “All right. I guess I can do that.”

 

“I’ll let the Idaville authorities know,” said the Scarlet Scarab. “They can let the
family know. They’ve probably got more experience breaking bad news than we do.”

 

“So we’re done?,” said Tanner. He still had to get home and see if anyone had
caught on he wasn’t home.

 

“One more thing,” said the Scarab. He pulled a business card for a computer company
from his belt. He wrote a phone number on the back. “Something like this happens
again, you call for help. Don’t try to take everyone on yourself.”

 

“Yes, sir,” said Tanner. He stored the card in his wallet.

 

“Remember,” said the Scarab. “I’ll call the FBI office and leave the tip. You might
want to get home.”

 

“Yes, sir,” said Tanner. “I guess I’ll see you guys at the next crisis.”

 

“Goodbye, Tanner,” said Scarab Girl. She waved at him as he walked to the edge of
the roof.

 

“Take it easy, S. G.,” said Tanner as he keyed in the slide. “I don’t think I like
Transformer Boy.”

 

He jumped off the roof and slid to somewhere in Texas. He checked his map and
worked his way northwest through a series of zigzagging lines. He reached the
outside of his house without a problem as far as he could tell.

 

He slipped in the back door. He listened to the house. The place seemed quiet. He
went upstairs. He sat down on his bed.

 

This was one problem his keyboard couldn’t fix. At least he could call for help if he
ran into Amenophis again.

 

His phone buzzed at him. He checked the caller ID. Darla again. He wondered what
she wanted. She wasn’t usually helpful to him.

 

“Hello, Darla,” said Tanner. How was he going to explain things to his parents? He
had no idea.

 

“You’re all over the news,” said Darla. “Dead guys in the street, missing student, your
Gold Man running around.”

 

“I tell you about it tomorrow,” said Tanner. “I have to get something to eat and then
get a nap. I’ll see you later.”

 

Tanner cut his television on. He switched to the local news. He winced at the damage
done chasing Amenophis’s fanatics. He went to the kitchen. He needed something
to eat, and then he had to look at the assignments that might be wanted tomorrow.

He had failed across the board. How did he come back from that?

 

Maybe he should try to keep the next rescue a little simpler. He made a noise at that
as he walked into the kitchen. He searched the fridge for something he could put in
the microwave. He settled on some bologna and cheese on bread. He put that on a
plate and put it in the microwave for a minute.

 

He looked out the window as he waited for his food to cook. He blinked at the man
in the coat looking out at the neighbor’s house. His cigar rested in his hand.

 

Tanner ran out the back door. He held his hands ready to call on one of his abilities
as he looked at the man in the coat. The nameless stranger nodded at him with his
perplexed eyebrows in evidence.

 

“I lost him,” said Tanner. “You knew what was going on. Why didn’t you warn me?”

 

“That’s not my job, Tanner,” said the man in the coat. “You know that. I can only
offer options.”

 

“Options?,” said Tanner. “Roland Givens is a monster. What kind of options does he
have now?”

 

“The same as anybody else,” said the man in the coat. “You didn’t save him from
being scarred, but you didn’t let him become a slave to a bigger menace. Options for
him is not the question you should be asking yourself.”

 

“What is?,” said Tanner. He had a feeling he was about to hear some more bad news.

 

“What is the question you should be asking yourself?,” asked the man in the coat.
“What are you going to do when Roland Givens comes home?”

 

“Why would he do that?,” asked Tanner.

 

“Why wouldn’t he?,” asked the man in the coat. “You did as well as you could with
what you had. No one could have done better. Maybe your cousin could have.”

 

“Next time, more information would be better,” said Tanner. He dropped his hand.
“Maybe a broad outline of the problem.”

 

“I wish, kid,” said the man in the coat. He puffed on his cigar. “Get ready. He’ll come
home eventually. You can count on that.”

 

He walked from the back yard, heading for a destination that wasn’t quite clear in his
mind, to warn someone who needed it.
//151664

[csyphrett]

loaded Young Strangers and A Leaguer's Fount of Monstrosity to my page.

CES

[csyphrett]

Recruited

2015-

Bobby Iger checked the address he had been given on a stick it note. He frowned
at the odd block of a building sitting next to similar buildings. The
difference was his building looked gloomy. The other buildings looked
happy to be buildings.

 

He shook off the feeling. He had a job to interview for in the gloomy building. He
might as well go in and see what the scam was.

 

A woman hurried down from the cross street. She had dressed in business casual
with a small bag hanging from her shoulder. Sneakers with neon orange laces drew
attention away from her polo shirt, and suit jacket. She had a glow that attracted
Bobby’s attention as he walked toward the door for his appointment.

 

She paused as Bobby opened the visitor door into the building.

 

“Are you here about the job too?,” she asked Bobby. One hand reached to keep the
door open so she could step inside after him.

 

“Yep,” said Bobby. “It attracted my eye, and I need a job right now.”

 

“Maria Garcia-Lopez,” she said.

 

“Bob Iger,” said Bobby. “Nice to meet you.”

 

“Thanks,” Maria said.

 

They stepped inside the clear space. A desk sat at the other end of the room. A
counter with a gate separated customers from the staff behind it.

 

The inside seemed slightly less gloomy than the outside, but Bobby thought it was a
work in progress from the looks of things.

 

“Hello,” called a voice from behind the counter. “We’re closed for the moment.”

 

“We’re here about the job,” said Maria. She glanced at Bobby. He nodded at her
statement.

 

“Janie had to go out for a bit,” said the unseen voice. “I’m sort of watching the store
for her. Come on back. We can shoot the breeze while we wait for her.”

 

Maria and Bobby walked back to the counter. He flipped the top for her to precede
him into the work area of the floor.

 

“Have a seat,” said the Asian sitting behind the central desk. His panama was pushed
back from a lean face. He smiled as he shuffled a deck of cards. “Name’s Harry.”

 

Maria took the seat directly in front of the desk. Bobby had to grab one from another
part of the room and pull it up.

 

“I’m Bob Iger, and this is Maria Garcia-Lopez,” said Bobby. “We’re wondering about
the job from the ad in the newspaper.”

 

“Jobs,” said Harry. He smiled as he mixed the cards up one last time. He dealt them
in a pattern on the table while he talked. “Janie is looking to hire three more bodies.”

 

“What is involved in this?,” asked Maria. “The ad just says it wants people who needs
excitement in their lives.”

 

“The Lamplighters is an organization that needs people who are not afraid of
anything,” said Harry. “They investigate mysteries from around the world and deal
with them.”

 

“They solve crimes?,” asked Bobby. He smiled at the melodrama.

 

“Sometimes,” said Harry. “Mostly what they deal with are unexplained natural
phenomena.”

 

“You don’t work for the Lamplighters, Harry?,” asked Maria. She leaned forward
in her chair to concentrate on his face.

 

He hesitated on the answer. A shadow fell across his face as he searched for the right
words to address the question.

 

“I had a career ending injury,” he finally said. “I can’t climb down elevator shafts like
I used to do.”

 

“Is the work that dangerous?,” asked Bobby. He didn’t want to chase some loon
for fifteen bucks an hour.

 

“Sometimes,” said Harry. “I didn’t really expect any problems, but I should have
zagged instead of zigging.”

 

“Who hasn’t done that once in a while?,” said Bobby.

 

“Will this Janie hire another woman?,” asked Maria.

 

“If you can pass the tests,” said Harry. “You have to be able to pass a retina scan, and
a drug test.”

 

“A retina scan and a drug test?,” asked Maria.

 

“The scan is to load your eye into our files so you can use some of the specialized
equipment,” said Harry. “The drug test is to make sure you don’t take anything
that would make it easy to victimize you on the job.”

 

“Has that happened?,” asked Bobby.

 

“Not to us,” said Harry. “Some of the people we’ve dealt with were heavy users
and their habits made them vulnerable to con men.”

 

“And it’s a risk to anyone who gets this job?,” asked Maria.

 

“You don’t want to be in the middle of a case and have gravity start warping
everything,” said Harry. “That’s a quick way to get killed.”

 

“Drug abuse makes that easier,” said Bobby. He nodded. “I can see that.”

 

“You guys will have a great time working here,” said Harry. “Janie has already
hired another guy. He’s out with her shopping.”

 

Bobby smiled. Something wasn’t right. This Harry guy drew too many shadows when
he talked about himself, and not enough when he talked about the potential job. What
was going on?

 

Career ending injury? What did that mean? How bad was it? Had the company
walked away from him after that?

 

What was he not telling them?

 

“I noticed you dealt out a solitaire setup,” said Bobby. “I don’t think I have ever seen
anything like it.”

 

“It’s not for solitaire,” said Harry. “It’s for reading your fortunes.”

 

“Really,” said Bobby. “What does mine say?”

 

“This is the line if you tell Janie you don’t want the job,” said Harry. “This is the line
if you take the job.”

 

“Got that,” said Bobby. He stood to look at the cards closely. “What does the readings
mean?”

 

“If you don’t take the job, you live a long life,” said Harry. “If you do, you only
have three years before you’re killed.”

 

“Three years?,” said Bobby. “That’s a bad prediction there. I’m as fit as a fiddle.”

 

“You don’t die of natural causes,” said Harry. He tapped the queen of spades he
turned up. “A woman kills you. Don’t worry. Now that you know what to look out
for, you can change your future on either side.”

 

“So in three years, I should look out for a woman who wants to kill me,” said Bobby.
“Can you narrow the list down?”

 

“I’m afraid not,” said Harry. “But I know you will know her when you see her. The
card in this context points to something big in your life.”

 

“What are the other cards?,” asked Bobby. He pointed at the other two lines next to
his reading.

 

“They’re hers,” said Harry. “It’s the same set up as yours.”

 

“I don’t think I want to know what my future will be,” said Maria. She held up a hand
to forestall any explanation.

 

“You don’t have anything to worry about,” said Harry. “You’ll live a long life in
either case.”

 

“Hold on,” said Bobby. “She gets to live a long time, and I get killed. How does
that work out?”

 

“She’s looking for something,” said Harry. He indicated several cards. “If she doesn’t
get the job, she doesn’t find what she’s looking for in the other line. If she does, she
does find what she’s looking for. In both lines, she gets to live a long life according
to this. She’d have to throw her life away to shorten either line.”

 

“So things work out better for her than me if we both get the job,” said Bobby. He rubbed his face with the palm of his hand.

 

“The future isn’t set,” said Harry. “You both could change things to change the line
of the cards and the future. You just have to know what you’re looking for and put
forth an effort. It’ll be like dealing yourself a new hand.”

 

“What about the hand you dealt for yourself?,” asked Maria. “I know you looked
at it.”

 

“I was given a choice,” said Harry. “And I made it.”

 

“It didn’t work out well for you, did it?,” said Bobby. “I can see it didn’t.”

 

“I admit it wasn’t much of a choice,” said Harry. “But it was the only one I had.”

 

“I can see that,” said Bobby. “Would you have done it again, knowing what you know
now?”

 

“Yes,” said Harry. “I couldn’t change the future enough to change my choice. It still
had to be made, and I’m the only one who could have done what was required at the
time.”

 

“The only one?,” said Maria.

 

“Yes,” said Harry. “Even with what I did, we still almost lost. Instead we changed the
future enough that what I did stopped something bad from wrecking the city. I don’t
have any regrets about that.”

 

“We’re expected to throw our lives away if it comes down to that.” Bobby frowned
at the two of them. “That’s what you’re telling us.”

 

“No,” said Harry. “You’ll be expected to do whatever you can to protect people, and
stop bad things from happening. There’s a chance that you’ll get hurt. I won’t lie
about that. Lamplighting is a dangerous business. It’s not for the weak. There are
better ways to die.”

 

Harry picked up his cards. He laid out one more line after a small shuffle. He shook
his head as he picked up the cards and put them in his jacket pocket.

 

“How long?,” Maria asked.

 

“Excuse me,” said Harry.

 

“How long have you been dead?,” said Maria. “I know that you are.”

 

“A while,” said Harry. “So you know I’m a ghost.”

 

“I can see it,” said Maria. “I’m sorry for you.”

 

“Don’t be,” said Harry. “I made a decision to do something. It was my choice.
No one else had the responsibility. You come to work here, you’ll have to make
the same kinds of choices.”

 

“Even if it kills us?,” said Bobby.

 

“Especially if it kills you,” said Harry. He smiled. “This job isn’t like any other.
You’ll know that you’re making a difference in someone else’s life even if all you
want is fortune and glory.”

 

“Fortune and glory doesn’t seem that bad,” said Bobby.

 

“It is if you get killed trying to get it,” said Harry. He stood up from behind the
desk. “It would be better if you didn’t tell Janie that you saw me. She wouldn’t
believe you, and it would just stir up trouble.”

 

“It would change the future,” said Bobby. He stood also. He wasn’t sure if he
believed the ghost stuff.

 

“It would only force you into the non-job line of things,” said Harry. “That would
wreck things for Maria, and force you to get a job that you didn’t like to pay your
bills.”

 

“You think I’ll like this job?,” said Bobby.

 

“I think it’s something you will excel at for the three years you have,” said Harry.
“And having you in a slot will placehold it for the person who comes after you.”

 

“You’re on,” said Bobby. “I’ll fight the future to prove you’re wrong.”

 

“Good luck, kids,” said Harry. He straightened his hat. “I’ll be keeping an eye on
you.”

 

He walked into streamers that thinned the longer they grew before they faded away.

 

“My first time seeing a ghost,” said Bobby. “I hoped for something scarier.”

 

“I’m scared enough,” said Maria. She stood. “Maybe I should get another job. This
one is too weird.”

 

“That’s up to you,” said Bobby. “The only difference not being a Lamplighter will
have for you is you won’t find what you’re looking for. Maybe not even trying is the
way to go for you.”

 

“You’ll die if he’s right,” said Maria. “That’s not a good career choice in my book.”

 

“I could also change the future,” said Bobby. “That’s something worth trying to do.”

 

“So you want to try for this job even it kills you?,” said Maria.

 

“I don’t see why not,” said Bobby. “I’m the perfect candidate.”

 

“Really?,” said Maria. “How so?”

 

“Because nothing will kill me for the next three years,” said Bobby. “If I look out for
any dangerous women, I might live longer than that.”

 

“Are you sure about that?,” asked Maria.

 

“Not really,” said Bobby. “But I don’t have anything to live for, so this might be what
I need.”

 

“All right,” said Maria. “We’ll talk to Miss Hillsmeirer, and see who she wants to
hire.”

 

“I’m game if you’re game,” said Bobby.

 

The vehicle doors slid up out of the way. A white van with a candle logo on the hood
rolled into the empty space. The room brightened considerably when the woman
driver stepped out of the van.

 

She frowned when she saw the two strangers standing behind the counter. Then she
remembered she was supposed to be talking to two candidates. She shook her head.
She had muffed that up.

 

“I’m Jane Hillsmeirer,” the woman said with a smile. “You’re Garcia-Lopez and Iger.
Let me get some coffee and I will be right with you.”

 

She headed upstairs as her passenger slowly climbed out of the van. He grimaced
at the two strangers as he walked toward them.

 

“Marcel Hobart,” the man said. “This place is haunted. Are you sure you want to
work here?”

 

“This is just as good a place as any,” said Bobby. He smiled. “Don’t worry. I’ll
protect you.”

 

“More like talk to me from beyond the grave,” said the other new Lamplighter.

 

Bobby smiled.
 

[csyphrett]

Secret Service

1938-

1

James Rafferty didn’t like the room. There were too many people in it. He had to
squeeze into a corner at the back. And too many people seemed to be looking at him
as they passed.

 

He should have asked for a different place to meet. The Rotten Unicorn was his
drinking spot. Setting up a meeting there had been second nature. Now it felt wrong.

He checked his watch. The arranged time was almost there. If the other person didn’t
arrive, he would go home and drink everything he had at his place.

 

Sir Laurence Fletcher stepped through the door of the pub exactly on time. He pushed
through the crowd until he reached Rafferty’s table. He placed his bowler on the
table, leaned his cane against the nearby wall, and sat down casually in the second
chair facing away from the door.

 

“Hello, Mr. Rafferty,” said Sir Laurence. “Thank you for having this meeting with
me.”

 

“What’s going on?,” asked Rafferty. “I’ve been canned, and now I am talking to a
knight of the realm. We don’t exactly move in the same circles.”

 

“I have a job offer for you, Mr. Rafferty,” said Sir Laurence. “It is totally confidential.
You can’t tell this to a living soul.”

 

“What’s your job, Guv‘nor?,” asked Rafferty.

 

“We want you to harass Mick Brown until something changes,” said Sir Laurence.

 

“Excuse me,” said Rafferty.

 

“You heard me right,” said the knight. “We’re putting together a secret agency to do
things that no one else can do. Part of that is outside the law criminal intelligence
gathering. Mick Brown is the biggest target in the city at the moment. We want you
to harass him and his operations until the normal police can put together a case.”

 

“Going after Mick Brown was why I was canned,” said Rafferty. “He has too many
friends in the department. Evidence will never be enough to stop him. It will
disappear before he goes to trial.”

 

“Even so,” said Sir Laurence. “We want you onboard with this project. You are a
trained detective and you know the underground. And you’re deniable.”

 

“The deniable part seems more important than the rest,” said Rafferty.

 

“What we will be doing cannot be shared with other agencies for the Crown,” said Sir
Laurence. “If you are caught, you will be forced to pay the price for any crimes you
may have to commit in the course of a mission.”

 

“Why should I go along with this?,” said Rafferty. “I don’t see anything in it for me.”

 

“It’s the only way we can think of to hurt Brown and his organization.” Sir Laurence
scanned the crowd. “We need someone capable of hurting him before he does
something that can’t be fixed.”

 

“He’s already done that,” said Rafferty.

 

“We’re talking against the war effort,” said Sir Laurence. “We think Brown is
funneling money to the Jerries. We can’t prove it, but if he is, we want it to stop.”

 

“And you think I’m the man who can do that,” said Rafferty. He made a snort of a
laugh. “You’re asking for a lot, Guv’nor.”

 

“And I am not promising much in return,” said the knight. “There’s only so much I
can say at a recruitment meeting.”

 

“I’ll go along with this,” said Rafferty. “I shouldn’t. I should turn you in to the proper
authorities. I am curious about this new idea that Brown would help the Germans.”

 

“So you’re in?,” said Sir Laurence.

 

“I’m curious about it,” said Rafferty. “I don’t know how it could be proven in a court.
So far Brown has been good about getting rid of any evidence that might tie him to
a crime.”

 

“That’s why we want you to harass him until something shows up that he can’t make
go away,” said Sir Laurence. “I’m going to give you a key. It’s to a flat. Equipment
has been put there for you to use for your mission. Do not let anyone see your face
while you’re working for us. We can’t allow your identity to be compromised and
have it lead back to us.”

 

“I understand,” said Rafferty. “Are there any rules for this?”

 

“We don’t want you to be killed, and we don’t want you killing anybody either,” said
Sir Laurence. “The more we can try and break in court, the better my backer will like
it.”

 

“Who’s your backer?,” asked Rafferty.

 

“That will have to remain a secret,” said Sir Laurence. “This is the key to your
headquarters. This is the address.”

 

He handed over a card and two keys.

 

“Keep it secret.” The knight stood. “We want to make this work for the duration of
the war. That could be years away from now.”

 

“When do you want me to start?,” asked Rafferty. He put the key and card away in
his pocket.

 

“Sometime in the next few days,” said Sir Laurence. He placed his bowler on his
head. “Anything we can get for you will be sent to the flat by messenger. If you need
something, call my office and ask for me.”

 

“Could you get me my job back?,” asked Rafferty.

 

“No,” said Sir Laurence. “Your peers have sentenced you to being an embarrassment
on the profession. No one wants you around to embarrass them further.”

 

“I suppose that’s honest enough,” said Rafferty. “I don’t like it.”

 

“I admit we’re recruiting you because you have every reason to avenge yourself on
Brown,” said Sir Laurence. “We are hoping that you are enough above it to keep a
clear perspective on the goal.”

 

“My life is in ruins,” said Rafferty. “I can’t promise that.”

 

“Do what you can,” said Sir Laurence. He picked up his cane. “I’ll be in touch with
some information, and how we think things are looking.”

 

Rafferty watched the other man leave. No one else seemed to notice his erstwhile new
employer. He stood. He put a few dollars down to cover his tab before leaving the
pub.

 

It didn’t take a detective to see why Fletcher had asked him to join their operation.

 

Mick Brown had ruined his life with a fake witness, a review board, and the
allegation that he had taken bribes. Of course he wanted to pay back the gang lord.

What did Fletcher expect him to do to harass Brown? He didn’t plan to kill anybody,
or create a false charge. What was left?

 

Did he want to walk this path any further than listening to the offer? How much
trouble would he be in if he were caught mucking about Brown after being fired for
chasing him?

 

How far was he willing to go to deal with Brown for some secret agency?

 

He didn’t have an answer for that question. He also didn’t know if he was dealing
with an agency at all. It might be a one man show with Fletcher as the boss. He was
decorated enough, and won a knight hood, but even knights could go bad.

 

At least he was honest about letting Rafferty know he would be out in the cold if
things went bad. That was an expected option as far as the detective was concerned,
and it had already happened once. How bad could a second time be?

 

Did he want to know what the inside of a prison looked like for a resident instead of
a visitor?

 

He walked along the street, heading for the address he had been given. Once there,
he could think about what he wanted to do. The safe house would tell him if he was
being misled about the ability of Fletcher and his mates.

 

It would be his last chance to turn down their job.

 

Rafferty noticed headlights behind him. He paused to light up a cigarette on the next
corner. He turned right and started away from the promised flat. The car turned to
follow him.

 

It could still be going in the same direction. London had a variety of places that more
than one person had to be at any time. He paused at the entrance of a bookstore that
looked ready to close. He reached for the door.

 

The car sped up. Rafferty hurled himself against the door. Bullets went by in front of
the small cracks of burning powder. He fell to the floor as the car rolled away.

 

The detective got to his feet. He wondered if the attack was because Brown knew he
was coming, or to clean up any loose lips.

 

It didn’t matter. Someone was gunning for him before he could see his bolthole. He
should take care of that before he tried anything else.

 

He hadn’t got a good look at the shooter. He had no way of knowing who was after
him. He certainly wasn’t going to confront Brown in his new persona. He needed a
weaker link to exploit.

 

He needed the person who had helped overturn the court case against Brown. That
was where he should start in this new job. Once he had that man running for his life,
he could try for someone else.

 

Rafferty turned and headed back the way he came. He wanted to avoid the police
response. He didn’t have time for his former colleagues. They would want to know
what had happened for hours. It was better for him to vanish.

 

He was the enemy now, more so than when he was on the force.

 

The detective watched the street as he walked toward the flat. He paused at the next
building to take a look around. No one was paying that much attention to him from
what he could see. He slipped back to his real destination and let himself in.

 

Rafferty examined the lobby before crossing to the steps. He headed up to the
apartment Fletcher was using as his base. He didn’t plan to stay there himself. He had
a few places of his own around town, and he didn’t want to depend on a flat where
the dogs might descend on him at a moment’s notice.

 

He thought that getting a place across the hall from the original place would give him
some kind of warning when the authorities arrived to take him in.

 

Then he could sneak out the back and slink away into the night.

 

He stepped out on the top floor and walked down to the flat. He looked along the
corridor. Someone might be looking at him from their peepholes. He couldn’t do
anything about that. He let himself inside the place with his key.

 

He turned on the light. The wallpaper matched the corridor outside. The same color
rug covered the floor. He thought he heard the sound of a refrigerator close by. He
noted the front part of the place looked like any parlor anywhere. A small kitchen sat
to his left. A closet formed a border that forced the kitchen space into a small L.

 

Rafferty checked the closet. Nothing hung inside it. More importantly there wasn’t
a body that could be blamed on him if someone suddenly wanted to have a look
around.

 

He found a small bathroom door on the other side of the kitchen space. He nodded
at the small tub and the shower above it. It would make it easy to wash blood off his
hands.

 

Two bedrooms took up the last of the apartment. One was an actual sleeping area with
a cabinet and closet for clothes. The other was an office with a desk and cork board 
for him to use. A picture of Mick Brown had already been posted on the board. He
checked the desk and found files related to Brown and his minions. He checked the
closet. Someone had hung a battledress uniform from the bar. A cloth face mask made
from a small union jack hung from the hanger, laying on the collar of the shirt and
jacket. A chest sat at the bottom of the closet. He opened that and found a pistol with
bullets still in their boxes.

 

At least Fletcher had already given him the basis for his disguise when he braced
Brown.

 

What was his next move?

 

He decided that he needed to get some sleep. Tomorrow he would start on the witness
and see what he could squeeze out of the man. Maybe he could get something the
Crown could use for another case.

 

If he could prove the man committed perjury, that might be enough to get him back
on the force.

 

He smiled. That was a dream that would never happen. The only way to get back
on the force that way was to show Brown’s guilt over the radio. Only a public outcry
would make the Home Office think about things and change its mind. If some
of the ministers were in with Brown, he would never get his commission back.

 

Rafferty decided that he should see if the place had some food laid in. Then he could
think about reading the files and seeing where he could apply pressure.

 

Wearing a mask should help him offer a believable threat.

 

You weren’t threatening when the public knew there wasn’t really anything you could
do if you wanted to keep your case intact.

 

//156083

[csyphrett]

Secret Service

1938-

2


Rafferty decided that he needed to get something to eat before digging into the files.
He didn’t like Fletcher setting him up with this apartment, when he wasn’t sure he
could trust him.

 

He decided he had two choices. He could do the job and hope Fletcher was
trustworthy, or he could abandon ship and do something else and hope his disgrace
didn’t follow him around. He was sure the fallout from the trial was why he had been
picked for this daft thing.

 

And he didn’t know if he could get another job except as unskilled labor because of
the papers following him around.

 

The detective checked the kitchen and found no food before he left the flat. They had
given him what he needed to prosecute their job, but they hadn’t set up the place as
a residence.

 

He went down to the street. The Rotten Unicorn was back the way he had come. He
decided it wouldn’t be a good idea to go back there until he figured out who wanted
to kill him.

 

There were so many people who might want to do that.

 

It might even include people who didn’t want him talking to Fletcher for whatever
reason.

 

That might be a list as long as his arm.

 

Rafferty went the other way. He thought there were some open restaurants and clubs
in that direction. A good dinner would help him think about what he wanted to do.

Extralegal methods were things the government did to hide their involvement. Who
was behind Fletcher? He doubted it was a one man show. Someone must have given
permission to pursue this, and sealed it. Who had the biggest motive?

 

Who had Mick Brown angered so much that the government had decided to toss out
the rules? It didn’t fit with the general appeasement of Hitler that had happened.

He had so many questions but knew that Fletcher would only tell him what he needed
to know. And he didn’t need to know that much.

 

And what he did need to know he could dig in and find out. That was what he did
best.

 

Rafferty found a small place taking up one corner of a shop. He decided that was as
good a place to eat as anywhere.

 

And the space was open so he could see anyone in a car rolling up to shoot at him
again.

 

That bothered him somewhat. The Unicorn was known as one of his places. Had they
followed him there, and tried to kill him after his meeting, or were they following
Fletcher first and happened to see him there?

 

He saw a public phone. Maybe he should make a couple of calls before he got
something to eat.

 

Fletcher might not have made it home after the meeting. He should check on that.

And he had one friend on the force he could call to get some help.

 

Rafferty called the number Fletcher had given him. He might as well see if it actually
worked.

 

“Operator,” said the voice on the other end of the call. “Name?”

 

“Rafferty,” said the detective. “Is Sir Laurence in?”

 

“No,” said the Operator. “How can I help you?”

 

“I’m checking on Sir Laurence,” said Rafferty. How much should he reveal to this

unknown person? “There was a shooting not far from our meeting.”

 

“Understood,” said the Operator. “I will make a safety check. Phone number?”

 

“I am at a public phone at the Quin restaurant,” said Rafferty. He gave the listed
number for the phone. “I expect to be here for an hour, before I move on.”

 

“Understood.” The Operator hung up on him.

 

Rafferty stared at the phone. So there was a third man, or woman, in the program.
That was okay. Maybe they should use code words to avoid phone monitoring.

He smiled at that.

 

He called one of the people he thought he could trust still in the Met. The man
probably didn’t want to talk to him. He needed information, and this was the fastest
way he knew to get it.

 

He needed something to work on to get to Brown. Maybe the shooter was the way
to go about that.

 

At the least, a name would point him to someone he could question.

 

“Hawley,” said the rough voice of his mentor. He was probably reading some case
file and trying to suss out the details he needed to crack the case wide open.

 

“It’s Rafferty, Inspector,” said Rafferty. He kept an eye on things around him. He
didn’t want to be trapped in the phone booth. “I need your memory.”

 

“I’m listening,” said Hawley.

 

“I would like to know if there was anyone connected to Mick Brown that liked to
shoot people from a car,” said Rafferty.

 

“That’s most of them, Jimmy,” said the inspector. “The most prominent to my mind
is Johnny Skillet.”

 

“I thought the Scots had done for him,” said Rafferty.

 

“They thought they had him pinned in a burning building, but they never found the
body,” said Hawley. “They wrote him off as dead.”

 

“So he could be alive,” said Rafferty. Hawley never accepted someone was dead until
he had body and confirmation from someone, or teeth. “Who’s your second choice?”

 

“Billy Bones,” said Hawley. “He’s still running loose. Never been picked up as
far as I know.”

 

“Thank you, Inspector,” said Rafferty. “I’ll see if I can find him.”

 

“What’s going on, Jimmy,” said Hawley. “Why the call in the middle of the night?”

 

“I have a job,” said Rafferty. “I have been asked to look into a thing, or two. I’ll let
you know when it’s over.”

 

“This isn’t about the shooting near the Unicorn, is it?,” asked Hawley. “I know
that is one of your favorite haunts.”

 

“Everyone knows that,” said Rafferty. “I have to go. I’m expecting a phone call.”

 

“Stay out of trouble, Jimmy,” said the inspector.

 

“Don’t I always?,” said Rafferty. He hung up the phone. How did he make use of the
information he had been given?

 

He supposed he could talk to people who knew Bones. Maybe that would give him
a way to make the shooter confess to his crimes.

 

Driving around town and taking shots at people had to be stopped.

 

He wondered what Fletcher expected him to do about all this. The costume and
the files suggested that he wanted some kind of vigilante action committed on Mick
Brown’s organization.

 

And it looked like Mick Brown wanted him out of the way more permanently than
making sure he had no authority to oppose him.

 

Could Fletcher find Bones? That would save him some time if the knight had other
resources that could be used.

 

Rafferty ordered a small dinner from the restaurant while he waited for his call back.
He ate with an eye on the door, and windows. If Fletcher had a leak, that leak would
probably pass on where he was to whomever shot at him. If that happened, he
had to be ready to move from where he sat.

 

All the other people in the room would have to look out for themselves if something
happened.

 

Rafferty finished his meal as the phone began to ring. He walked over to the booth

and answered the phone with a curt “yeah?”

 

“Sir Laurence reports no problems,” said the Operator.

 

“Thanks,” said Rafferty. “See if you can find a man named Billy Bones. I would like
to talk to him soonest. I’ll call back in a few hours.”

 

Rafferty hung up. He didn’t know if Fletcher had anyone out there who could search
the city. He did know that he couldn’t search everywhere by himself. Extra eyes were
necessary for the job.

 

And he needed a car to get around. If he was expected to wear that costume in the flat,
he needed a way to get across town without anyone noticing a man in a military suit
and mask.

 

Such a description would point constables at him if he went into action and started
doing things frowned upon by the Crown. He wasn’t sure he wanted to cross that line
at the moment.

 

It would feel good to execute street justice on his enemies, but he was better than
that. A mask wouldn’t change who he was.

 

Still, it was tempting to throw someone through a window like Hawley had done to
one of the River Rats when he had first made detective. The inspector had caught the
man trying to flee the scene while detectives and uniformed constables surrounded
the place. The fling through the glass had been enough to settle the man down for
manacles to be applied.

 

Rafferty headed into the East End. There was one man he wanted to talk to that he
shouldn’t. He already had the address from an old file. If he could catch the man at
home, that would be fine enough.

 

It was certainly against the Met’s policy for what he wanted to do to the man he was
going to talk to at the moment. He had thought about letting things lie before talking
to Sir Laurence. Now he wanted to see what he could do to shake the man up.

 

He found the address and looked up and down the street. People roamed, but no one
seemed to be watching him.

 

Rafferty knocked on the door. He looked up at the windows. No lights came on.

Was the man home?

 

Rafferty knocked on the door again. Did he want to go in? Was it better if he
waited outside? So far he hadn’t broken any laws. How much would that fly with his
former coworkers?

 

He knocked on the door again. He wondered where his accuser could be. Maybe he
was at one of the local shops, pubs, or restaurants.

 

Rafferty wondered if the man had left anything lying around that could incriminate
him in something.

 

Was he considering breaking the law? Did he really want to do this?

 

Rafferty grimaced. He had to make up his mind. Was he ready to step outside the
lines? Was he the man Fletcher wanted for his job?

 

He punched a pane out of the front window on the left. He reached in and turned the
lock. He raised the window and slipped inside. He turned on the lights with his sleeve
covering his fingers.

 

He found the resident in his bath. He shook his head. He had to get out of there
before someone reported him. He turned the lights out and slipped out the front door.

 

Bob Corklin had come forward and accused him of taking bribes to look the other
way. A bank account had been submitted as evidence that something was going on.
Only the fact that he hadn’t been identified by the bank officials had saved him from
bribery charges.

 

He had wanted to ask the man how much he had been paid to have the force turn on
him as a crook.

 

He couldn’t do that now. He grimaced as he went back to the Quin. He needed to
report this as soon as he could. He was going to look guilty either way. He might
as well try to have the machinery collect the evidence and hope he could refute it.

Why had they killed Corklin? Was he about to refute his statement? Was it a way to
put Rafferty further in a box?

 

Had Fletcher’s people done it to insure his cooperation? He needed answers to his
questions. Whom did he ask first?
//158011

[csyphrett]

Secret Service

1938-

3

Rafferty decided the best thing he could do was call Hawley, and the Operator. Both
needed to know about Corklin for different reasons.

 

Hawley needed to know because he would eventually, and he would be asked to run
any investigation. Rafferty would be the person at the top of his suspect list.

 

The Operator needed to know because if it was a box, then calling Hawley would
blow that up as an option. And if Fletcher was going to help him, this was something
he could help with by following reports generated by the Met.

 

It wasn’t perfect, but it was the best he could do at the moment. He had no resources
to ask questions, or collect evidence. The Met were in the best position to do that.
And if someone was working for Brown, this might draw them out.

 

If Hawley was working for Brown, this would be a great way for him to prove it.

He went to the phone booth. He would have to start mixing up from where he called
if he was going to keep doing it. Someone would see him using this booth and try to
shoot at him eventually.

 

He called Hawley’s office first. Maybe the Inspector was still there. If not, he would
try the man’s home address.

 

“Hawley,” said the gruff inspector after two rings.

 

“There’s a dead body I need to report,” said Rafferty. He gave the address. “Someone
has done for Bob Corklin.”

 

“How do you know this?,” asked Hawley.

 

“I’ve seen it,” said Rafferty. “I’m only reporting it because I will be the number one
suspect.”

 

“Bob Corklin is the man who stated that he saw you taking bribes,” said Hawley. “I
remember him. Did you kill him?”

 

“No,” said Rafferty. “I found him because I wanted to know who put him up to it. He
was dead on the floor.”

 

“I’ll look into it,” said Hawley. “This is bad for you, Jimmy. You can’t even deny you
weren’t there because here you are reporting finding the body.”

 

“I know,” said Rafferty. “I have to go. I’ll call back in the morning.”

 

Rafferty hung up the phone.

 

He dialed the other number. Two rings and the same voice he had dealt with earlier
said “Operator, state your name.”

 

“Rafferty,” said the former detective. “One of the witnesses in the Mick Brown trial
is dead. The police have been alerted. Inspector Hawley should be going to the scene
of the crime right now.”

 

“Options?,” asked the Operator.

 

She was asking him for options? He rubbed his face as he thought. What could he do
at this point? Corklin was dead. There was no way to prove that he lied under oath
without his admission. What options did he have?

 

He still had Bones. He had to find the man. If he did that, maybe he would have
options to do what Fletcher wanted.

 

“The Inspector will be gathering evidence to sort things out,” said Rafferty. “I need
to let him do that. The only other thing I can do is find the suspected shooter from
earlier in the night. I’ll call back if I find anything.”

 

“Understood,” said the Operator.

 

“Wait,” said Rafferty. “Can you get me a car?”

 

“Hold please,” the Operator said. The line buzzed on her end. “Yes. We can arrange
for a car to be delivered to you.”

 

“Not at the flat,” said Rafferty. “Have it dropped at the Rotten Unicorn.”

 

“Understood,” said the Operator. “Anything else?”

 

“Not at the moment,” said Rafferty. “Thank you.”

 

The Operator cut the connection.

 

Rafferty wondered what he could do next. He still had most of the night ahead of him
before the Met had pulled Corklin’s body out of his apartment. It would be at least
two days before an autopsy and any lab reports. Hawley would have to have those.

 

Someone would want to know why a man leveling accusations at a detective had been
killed without any protection being provided by the police.

 

He didn’t envy the inspector’s position when that inevitably happened.

 

His spot was worse. Someone would get around to wanting to know where he was,
and if there was enough evidence to charge him in the killing. The uniforms would
turn out to look for him soon enough.

 

How did he take advantage of the time he had before his face was posted in every
station across the country?

 

It was time to start asking questions. And he had to do it as someone that didn’t have
anything to lose. He hated to admit it, but he had to use Fletcher’s vigilante to do
what he had to do.

 

He quit the phone booth and headed for the flat. It was the only place that seemed
safe at the moment. Once Fletcher decided to throw him to the wolves, it would be
exposed to the authorities.

 

He needed the costume and the files. Then he could act from a place that only he
knew about and wouldn’t be in danger of being turned in to the police.

 

He hated to have to hide behind a mask, but he didn’t see that he had a choice. Once
the police started searching for him, both sides would be searching for him. He didn’t
see a way around that.

 

He scanned the street as he approached the front of the building. No one was on the
street, and he didn’t see anything out of order.

 

He let himself in and hurried up to his flat. He had to get in and get out as fast as
possible.

 

He doubted Fletcher would get him out of a murder charge. He had to do it himself.
How did he do that?

 

The first thing on his agenda had to be finding Billy Bones and finding out what he
knew and why the hit man had tried to kill him. Once he knew that, he could move
to the next step.

 

It had to be something attached to the Brown case. He didn’t see why. The case was
closed. Brown had beaten the rap. The Crown couldn’t win a case with what had
happened in the one that had just been dismissed.

 

It would be far easier to prove he had the motive, means, and opportunity to kill
Corklin.

 

He let himself into the flat. He grabbed the uniform and weapon box from the closet.
He stuffed the files in the box as best he could. Time to go.

 

How long did he have before Hawley dropped by the Unicorn looking for him? He
had to pick up the dropped car and clear the area before that happened.

 

Everyone knew he used the Unicorn as his second office. Someone would have the
place surrounded when the word went out. He had to get there first, and then escape
the manhunt.

 

He should have told the Operator to use a different drop spot. He had acted without
thinking. He couldn’t keep doing that.

 

He headed downstairs. He checked the street before leaving the building. He headed
toward the Unicorn. He had to find the car, and drive away before Hawley showed
up to ask him questions.

 

He didn’t like the fact he didn’t have any answers.

 

Rafferty paused in the shadow of an alley when he got close to the Unicorn. He didn’t
see many people around the pub. Where was the car?

 

He spotted a black sedan parked down the block. Someone had left a card with the
Union Jack on its face in the window. He crept up to look inside. The delivery man
was long gone.

 

It was time he did the same.

 

A quick check showed the keys were in the ignition. He placed the costume and box
in the trunk. He got behind the wheel and drove away.

 

When Fletcher decided to get rid of him, the car would be given to the police for them
to find. He didn’t know if he could trust the knight, but he had to have resources.

 

Hawley would want to bring him in for holding while they built a case against him.
That was how the Met worked. There was no reason to believe they would see things
as a frame job following on what had happened in court.

 

He had more reason to kill Corklin after what had happened in court.

 

So how did he start now that he had transportation?

 

He found a quiet place to park. All he could do was read the material in the trunk.
Maybe that would give him some place to go.

 

He pulled out the files and carried them back to the front seat. He went through them
carefully. He was amazed that some of his own notes were in the paperwork from his
own cases dealing with murders associated with the Brown Gang.

 

How had Fletcher got those?

 

So Fletcher had spies in the authorities to feed information to his vigilante. That
was good to know, but useless if his vigilante was on the run from both sides.

 

Where could he start his campaign?

 

He noted that Brown owned three clubs and a hidden casino. He needed operating
funds. The casino was the best place to hit. It would be well guarded, but they
wouldn’t want too much trouble.

 

He smiled. He might be able to make it work. He needed to take a look at the place.
And he would have to hit hard. He couldn’t let them get back on their feet and realize
only one man was committing a raid.

 

That could get him killed.

 

He put the files back in the trunk and pulled out the costume and gun box. He
changed clothes in the back seat and loaded the Webley. He kept the mask around his
neck until he needed it.

 

He drove through town to the address listed for the casino.

//156k and some change

 

[csyphrett]

Secret Service

1938-

4

Rafferty found the place snuggled in an address that should have been for a boarding
house. He inspected the street from his car. He saw one lookout on the street. The
man leaned against a stoop, smoking a cigarette. A whistle hung around his neck.

If the police arrived to raid the place, he blew the whistle and fled. Someone inside
the gambling den would be alerted to usher people out the back way, or through some
hidden exit, while the casino was converted back into an empty storage area.

 

No one wanted a petty gambling charge on their record.

 

Rafferty smiled. How did he get in without attracting attention? He should take out
the lookout, and then see if there was a way inside the place. After that, he would
have to play it by ear.

 

He pulled his mask up to cover his face. The bottom was long enough to tuck in the
collar of his shirt. He scanned the street again. He spotted another man in the shadows
behind his car.

 

He had to do something. He wasn’t going to get through the front door without a ram.
How did he get by security?

 

He decided to keep driving. He rolled along slowly, as if looking for an address. He
turned and headed over to an adjacent street. He found a spot between buildings to
park his car.

 

He had at least two lookouts covering the front door of the place. How many were
covering the back? Was there a way into the casino from the back? How did he find
it?

 

Rafferty inspected the street before getting out of his car. He pulled on the uniform
cap as he thought about his next move. How did he find the casino and get in?

 

He walked to the back wall of the house. He examined the bricks for something he
could use. He pressed several in sequence. One moved under his gloved hand. He
smiled as he pressed it all the way down. A door sprang open for him.

 

Rafferty entered the secret room. He pulled out his lighter and flicked the sparking
wheel to get a flame. Another door led deeper into the house. He felt around until he
found a switch to turn. The inner door popped open.

 

He stepped into a short hall that ran behind the main room of the house. He heard
laughter and the click of glasses. He waited for a moment. Ambient light drifted from
holes in the walls. He looked around until he found another switch. That one opened
a spot behind a bar. He struck one of the bartenders with the Webley before he could
react to the uniformed presence.

 

The other man started to turn. The masked man threw him over the counter of the bar.
He hit the ground and rolled.

 

Rafferty grabbed the other man and threw him on top of the second man before the
other could get to his feet. He smiled underneath his mask as more security
approached the bar.

 

He swept the alcohol off the shelves on the counter and floor. Some of the bottles
broke open. He used his lighter on the spilled liquor. The bar went up in an explosion
of flame.

 

Everyone paused as the flames spread from the initial contact. The thugs moved to
put the fire out. The customers started toward the door. Both groups hampered each
other’s efforts.

 

Rafferty picked up a bottle that had survived his initial arm sweep. He popped the top
and threw it across the flames. He smiled at the trail of fire that ran after it until it
landed on the carpet.

 

“Anybody here seen Billy Bones?,” shouted Rafferty. He spotted security breaking
free of the crowd. They would want to stop him and put out the fire. He didn’t see any
guns, but that didn’t mean that much.

 

He needed to spread some more panic so he could move forward from where he was.
As long as he was behind the bar, there was no way to get into the crowd and find
someone he could question.

 

Rafferty grabbed another bottle from the shelf. He popped the cap as he hopped over
the bar. He threw the bottle across the room. Fire followed the pouring liquid as the
bottle sailed across the room.

 

The masked man looked around. The crowd still pushed for the front door. He needed
someone to talk to and ask questions. Who could he grab?

 

One of the guards made that choice for him with an angry rush. He went down under
the weight of the man. He responded with an elbow to the neck. He pushed the man
off and pummeled him before he could get his breath back.

 

Rafferty looked around. A lot of the security was being pushed away by the fleeing
crowd. He and his captive, and the two bartenders were all that was left in the room.

 

“Where’s Bones?,” Rafferty asked. He pulled the security guard to his feet by his
neck tie. “Where?”

 

“I don’t know,” said the guard. He tried to swing a fist into the face of his enemy. He
hit a shoulder. That freed his neck tie.

 

Rafferty punched him in the face, then kicked him in the shin. He grabbed a chair and
slammed it against the guard’s face. The man went down.

 

The masked man looked around. He shook his head. There was no one close by for
him to question.

 

At least they knew he was looking for Bones. That might draw attention to the
hitman.

 

What did he do now?

 

He decided that he couldn’t let the bartenders die from burning. He looked down at
the guard. He couldn’t let him die.

 

He could but he doubted Fletcher would like it if he did.

 

He grabbed the guard and threw him through the closest window. He went to
bartenders and dragged them out of the back door. He closed the secret door and
pulled them out of the building.

 

Rafferty dropped the men in the yard. He looked around. He didn’t see anyone in the
back lot. He needed to make a call to make sure the burning house didn’t take the rest
of the neighborhood with it.

 

He went across the street. Lights were on in the house. He banged on the door. He
waited quietly. The door opened to reveal a dowager looking out at him.

 

“What you want?,” she said. “What’s that on your face?”

 

“You have a phone?,” asked Rafferty.

 

“Sure, I do,” said the woman. “Why?”

 

“Mick Brown’s gambling house caught fire,” said Rafferty. “I think someone should
call the fire brigade.”

 

“And you think that someone should be me?,” said the woman.

 

“I would but I don’t have a phone,” said the masked man. “Could you please do that
for me?”

 

“All right.” She turned from the door. “Hugh, some idiot pretending to be the flag is
wanting us to call a fire brigade.”

 

“Really?,” answered someone who could only be Hugh. “What’s he playing at, do
you know?”

 

“No,” said the woman. “He says Mick Brown’s place is burning down.”

 

Rafferty walked away while they were still talking. Other lights were coming on.
Someone must have seen what was going on and the word was spreading.

 

He headed for his car. He could call the Operator and see if she could get someone
down to the house. Fletcher might want to know what was going on.

 

Rafferty got behind the wheel of his car. He looked around. People were in the street.
No one seemed to be looking his way.

 

He pulled out of the alley. He headed down to the end of the block. He needed to get
out of the costume until he was ready to do more damage.

 

How was Brown going to take the burning of his casino? Would he levy his troops
to look for the masked man? Who would he call to help in his search?

 

How could he leverage this into something he could use against the gang lord? Who
would take sides?

 

Should he call the Operator? Fletcher might not know that he had burned down the
casino yet.

 

Had he put Billy Bones on the spot? What would the hitman do now that the rumors
would fly that someone was looking for him?

 

Would he start looking for Rafferty to stop the detective from burning down any other
place owned by Brown.

 

How many could he wreck before Brown started increasing the security to keep him
from doing that?

 

He needed to take time to plan an approach where he could get his hands on any
paper evidence.

 

Where would Brown keep any books for his enterprises?

 

Rafferty pulled under a bridge. He changed clothes and stored everything in the trunk.
If someone stopped him and searched the trunk, his secret would be out. That would
be the end of his short career as a vigilante.

 

Fletcher would have to recruit another disgruntled policeman to carry out his
missions.

 

Rafferty found a phone booth after some minutes driving. He didn’t know where
Brown was, or Bones. One of them would show up eventually. He had to be ready to
prove they had committed the crimes he accused them of doing.

 

Right now, if it was proven that he had burned down the casino, he would be brought
up on charges of arson.

 

It was bad enough to think he was suspected of taking bribes from Brown’s rival to
put him away. Adding other crimes to the pot would get him extra years in prison.

At least the mask made it hard to prosecute for the arson. He had the motive, means
and opportunity, but anyone else who hated Brown could have the same thing.

 

Maybe he could pin the crime on someone that worked with Bones. He needed a
likely suspect with no alibi that could be framed for the crime.

 

He doubted anyone like that would stand out.

 

He stepped into the booth. He dialed the number for the Operator. He watched the
street as he waited.

 

He didn’t want to be caught in the phone booth if someone decided it was the perfect
chance to get rid of him. At least the car acted as a partial shield from where he had
parked it at the curb.

 

“Operator, state your name,” said a different voice. So the organization was bigger
than he had thought.

 

“Rafferty,” said the former detective.

 

“Hold for Fletcher,” said the Operator.

 

Rafferty considered hanging up. He didn’t need to talk to the man himself. He just
needed to know if Brown had been sighted anywhere that Fletcher’s people had a
watch.

 

“Mr. Rafferty,” said Fletcher. “What are you doing?”

 

“I am looking for Billy Bones,” said Rafferty. “You wouldn’t happen to know where
he is at this moment?”

 

“Why are you looking for Bones?,” said Fletcher. He muttered something away from
the phone.

 

“He is a gunman that specializes in shootings from cars,” said Rafferty. “I would like
to talk to him about a shooting that happened after our meeting.”

 

“Give me the details, please,” said the knight.
//161520

[csyphrett]

secret service

1938-

5

Sir Laurence listened with dismay as his erstwhile agent informed him of the night’s
doings so far. He made notes as he decided what options he could employ to turn
things to achieve his goals. Rafferty might force things if he stayed out in the open.

 

The knight told Rafferty to hold on. He moved to another phone on the desk. He had
to make two calls.

 

Fletcher made the first call. It was to a detective they had on their payroll. He asked
the man to collect the bullets at the house of the shooting mentioned by Rafferty.

He asked the detective to compare the bullets to Corklin’s murder if he could. He also
asked for comparisons to any unsolved murder in London. It was better to throw a net
wide enough to net a lot of fish, than trying to just net one. The detective
acknowledged the order.

 

Sir Laurence called a stool pigeon he used to keep tabs on the underworld next. The
man was not reliable, but sometimes he came up with something useful. The knight
asked him about Billy Bones and his relationship with Mick Brown.

 

“Well, Guv, Billy Bones keeps to himself,” said the informant. “Almost no one knows
what he looks like. He supposed to have some woman in the north part of the city.”

 

“Do you know the name of the woman, Sam?,” said Sir Laurence. “It might be vital
to my business.”

 

“Not really,” said Sam. “I heard it was something like Margaret, Margie. She works
at a clothing shop named Yellow Rose.”

 

“Thank you, Sam,” said Sir Laurence. “Your payment will be left in the usual place.”

 

“Thanks, Guv,” said Sam.

 

The knight hung up. He went back to the open line where Rafferty waited for him.

 

“Rafferty?,” asked Sir Laurence.

 

“I’m still here,” said the detective.

 

“One of my informants gave me the partial name of a woman associated with Billy

Bones,” said Sir Laurence. “A Margaret. She works at a clothing store called the
Yellow Rose.”

 

“I’ll look into it,” said Rafferty. “I suppose there’s no home address.”

 

“The informer didn’t know it,” said the knight. “What are you going to do?”

 

“I’m going to see if I can find this woman,” said Rafferty. “Is there anything I need
to know before I get started?”

 

“I have someone trying to match the bullets from your shooting to the Corklin
murder, and any other murder that might be filed at the Yard,” said Sir Laurence. “I
will let you know if there is news.”

 

“Thanks,” said Rafferty. “I’ll call you when I know something.”

 

Sir Laurence put the headset down at the end of the call. He rubbed his chin. He had
expected Rafferty to start rapidly, but not like this. He might have to rethink his
project strategy.

 

“Let me know if he checks back in, Greer,” said Sir Laurence. “I have to do some
paperwork.”

 

“Yes, sir,” said Greer.

 

The operator checked his notes. He began typing up what had been reported by
Rafferty. He shook his head at the burning down of the casino. He made a note to get
a report from the fire brigade when possible.

 

Sir Laurence settled behind his desk. He looked at the reports on his desk. He
grimaced. Where did he start?

 

He decided to start with the candidates from Glasgow. The operation wanted to set
up offices in other parts of the island and Ireland. He weeded the files down to two.
He needed to contact one of his assistants to let them know to keep his candidates
under watch. As soon as Rafferty had things in hand, he could talk to them and see
if they would be interested in the job.

 

He sorted messages from various sources. Some of them were not that important, but
could use a little checking. He might put Rafferty on those to clear them up.

 

A message from MI-6 reported a sighting of a spy activity. They didn’t have any real
suspect yet. They thought the Yellow Rose was involved.

 

He paused. Where had he heard that name before?

 

He stood and went to the door to the outer office. Greer worked on his notes. The
operator looked up from his typing.

 

“Sir?,” said the operator.

 

“Yellow Rose?,” said Sir Laurence.

 

“It’s the place you sent Rafferty to look for Billy Bones’s girlfriend,” said Greer.

 

“Problem?”

 

“Perhaps,” said the knight. “I have to go out. If Rafferty calls in, tell him to watch out
at the Yellow Rose.”

 

“Understood,” said Greer.

 

Sir Laurence picked up his hat and cane as he left the office. He put the hat on as he
headed for the elevator. What was Billy Bones’s girl doing with a connection to a
foreign government? What had they sent Rafferty to do?

 

He found his car. He got behind the wheel. He had sent his driver home for the day
before he had realized he would need him.

 

Things were moving too fast. He smiled to himself. He had wanted Rafferty to stir the
pot until he could get more agents into the field. The detective was doing that right
enough.

 

He reviewed the facts in his head and he didn’t like the implications that were in the
things he didn’t know. How big a problem had Rafferty triggered by going after
Bones of all the people associated with Mick Brown?

 

The shooting after the meeting must have been what triggered Rafferty. How had he
decided on Bones over the rest of the associated pack of wolves?

 

That was a question for another day.

 

What they did about the Yellow Rose was a more immediate concern. Anything they
did could cause the spy apparatus detected by MI-6 to fold up and move. That would
waste months of work by the other agency. He couldn’t allow that.

 

He didn’t see how he could stop it with Rafferty already in motion.

 

The best he could do was try to mitigate things so MI-6 still had their trail to follow.

 

Sir Laurence drove through the streets with care and precision. He found the shop
tucked between two other clothing places. A small pub was on the corner of the
block. He glanced at the window, but didn’t see Rafferty in the crowd. He drove
down the block, pulling in at the curb behind a dark green sedan.

 

Where was his agent?

 

Sir Laurence scanned the street on all sides of his car. He didn’t see anyone close to Rafferty, or his masked persona. What was his next move?

 

He decided that he should check the inside of the pub. Maybe Rafferty had stationed
himself inside and away from the glass. At the very least, he could get something to drink while he was looking.

 

The knight walked to the pub. He supposed he was looking at a minor center for
the local criminals. He made sure his wallet was where no one could get at it before
he stepped inside. He didn’t see Rafferty as he walked to the bar.

 

He decided to take up a position at the bar. He could keep his eye on the rest of the
room, and the windows from the end. And it let him blend in with the people already
there.

 

He ordered a glass of beer and took it to the end of the bar. He could be wrong.

Rafferty might be waiting for the next night to break into the place. He might be
taking the rest of his first night waiting to see what would happen after he smashed
open Brown’s casino.

 

He dismissed that speculation. Rafferty had moved by reflex after deciding to take
the job. He had a clear wedge he was trying to push. He wouldn’t stop now except
to rest and evaluate his next target.

 

Where was he examining the Yellow Rose? He had to be close by to watch the shop.

 

He didn’t have to be in the street. Maybe one of the roofs overlooking the block held
a good spot to watch the street.

 

Sir Laurence appearing on the scene might give him pause. The agency could not
destroy an MI-6 operation without getting something to give back. MI-5 and MI-6
covered most of the intelligence gathering for the Crown. Another agency ripping
their apparatuses apart would not be appreciated.

 

How did he stop his agent from doing that?

 

He sipped at his beer and watched the other patrons. No one came close. They
seemed involved in the conversations they were having. Some asked about him to
their friends. He was an oddity at the neighborhood pub.

 

The locals didn’t like that, but they weren’t ready to do anything about it yet.

 

A familiar face entered the pub. Sir Laurence sipped his beer. At least he had
confirmation that Billy Bones hung around in the neighborhood.

 

He didn’t see a woman with him. Where was this elusive Margaret? Once the pair
were together, he could follow them out of the pub to wherever they were going.
Then he could see if there was evidence connecting Bones to Corklin, or the attempt
on Rafferty.

 

How did it all tie in with the suspected spy ring, and Mick Brown?

 

Sir Laurence saw an army uniform through the window glass. He stood and drank
part of his beer before heading for the door. He checked as he went. No one moved
to follow him.

 

He stepped out on the street and looked both ways. He saw the uniform down the
street. He walked down to the end of the block so he could have a chat with his new
employee.

 

“Mr. Rafferty?,” whispered Sir Laurence. “We need to talk.”

 

“What are you doing here?,” asked Rafferty. He had his mask up to protect his face.

 

“The Yellow Rose is a suspected spy nest,” said Sir Laurence. “I saw the notification
and came down to warn you that it was being watched by Intelligence.”

 

“Right,” said Rafferty. “How does it connect to Brown?”

 

“I have no idea,” said Sir Laurence. “Bones and his paramour are in the pub. How
do you want to handle that?”

 

“I’m going to wait for them to come out, and then I am going to talk to Bones,” said
Rafferty. “I don’t know what to do about the woman. If she is a spy, we’ll need more
evidence than MI-6's say so. We need something we can follow to the source.”

 

“Take Bones,” said Sir Laurence. “Find out what you can from him. We want to
concentrate on Brown, and Corklin. Drop him somewhere the police will find him.”

 

“What about the woman?,” said Rafferty. “If I take Bones in front of her, that might
cause her to flee.”

 

“That would be fine,” said Sir Laurence. “I’m going to find a phone booth to ask for
an auxiliary to help us. Take Bones, I’ll follow the woman until the auxiliary can
take over.”

 

“So we’re going to use Bones to try to find out what the woman is doing,” said
Rafferty. “I don’t see how it will work.”

 

“It might not,” said Sir Laurence. “We just don’t have anything to lose by letting her
go so we can follow her.”

 

“Right,” said Rafferty. “Better make that call. There’s no telling when they’ll leave.”

 

Sir Laurence walked off in search of a phone he could use to call his contact.

[csyphrett]

Secret Service

1938-

6

Rafferty took up a spot outside the pub where he could see the two doors available
as exits. All he had to do was wait and hope that no one saw him loitering. The
costume was a dead giveaway that he was up to no good.

 

If he went in, he would have to fight the whole pub. None of the people inside had
the look that the casino players had. They would all turn on him to protect Bones.

Waiting was the best thing to do. He didn’t like it. He would rather force things to
happen. If the spy boys were right about the connection to the Jerries, it was worth
it to see how much he could disrupt.

 

If they were wrong, Bones’s girlfriend was just guilty of hanging out with a bad
crowd.

 

He didn’t think they were wrong, but he had no way to prove anything. And he had
no connection to Brown. They could imply anything, but that wasn’t proof. The
Intelligence people weren’t going to stand in open court and declare how they hooked
everything together.

 

He had to make the connection, but beating a confession out of Bones was not going
to hold up in court either. Any sign of coercion and the case would be destroyed
before it could be argued in front of the judges.

 

And he doubted he could scare Bones enough to profess all of his knowledge of the
underworld to the local copper.

 

Maybe he could trick the woman into notifying her boss if she saw him being picked
up. The agency would have to be ready to listen on her phone call. He didn’t see that
happening fast enough to catch her.

 

He considered breaking into her place and looking around. That might get him
something. He didn’t know what.

 

It would also blow any surveillance Six was doing, unless he arranged for them to
chase her down after she discovered him going over her secret messages.

Five would be mad that no one had handed them a spy on domestic soil since it was
their job to hunt such people down.

 

How did he use any of this? Acting as a vigilante meant punishing people in the act.
Bones had done nothing provable, nor was he a threat while he was in the pub.
Waiting for him to get orders and go after someone else seemed the only way to solve
things so that the regular police could do something.

 

Maybe he should go in as himself and spark a confrontation. Maybe that would get
him something he could use. Then Fletcher and the auxiliary could watch the woman
and see what she did.

 

Rafferty considered the plans. They wouldn’t get him closer to proving Bones killed
Corklin. Punching him in the face was tempting, but he couldn’t think of a way to
turn that into a cell and a day before a court.

 

Capturing him was well and good. It was up to the Yard to deal with him. Would
Hawley have enough evidence to charge Bones? Would he walk away clean?

 

And there was no way to connect Bones to Brown. That was the most important part
of things.

 

If Bones was taken with the gun that killed Corklin, that would be proof that he had
killed the witness. The problem was he could claim a crazy masked man had given
it to him after taking him from his favorite pub.

 

So the plan was to wait and have a little talk with the hitman when he came out of the
pub. A ride in the trunk of the car would follow after that.

 

It seemed better than letting everyone know he had the man. It obviated the need to
explain where the evidence came from and how it got in Bones’s possession. And it
kept his girlfriend in the dark unless she showed up to meet him.

 

It wasn’t a perfect plan, but it was better than nothing.

 

Rafferty waited patiently in the shadows. The pub started emptying out. Where was
Bones? Did he have to go in and take the man?

 

The pub stood empty. All the customers had left. The bar man put chairs up on the
tables as he started cleaning up.

 

Where had Bones gone? He would have to go in and ask around. That was the total
opposite of what he wanted to do. He checked the Webley. No one said being a
masked government requisitioned vigilante would be easy.

 

At least the business was exciting so far.

 

Rafferty went to the pub’s doors. He tried the knob. It was locked. The pub man
looked up and saw him standing there. He didn’t look happy at the masked man
looking into the room at him.

 

Rafferty smashed the glass inset out of the door with the Webley. He opened the door
as the man ran to the counter. The detective fired one shot into the shelf behind the
bar.

 

“Bones,” said the masked man. “Where is he?”

 

“He went out the back,” said the bar man. “There’s a door behind the building. It lets
out in the alley between the pub and the book store.”

 

Rafferty grimaced. He went out the front. He walked to the corner. He noticed the
green sedan had lights on. He wondered if that was Bones’s car and if he was behind
the wheel.

 

He rushed down the street. The green sedan started to pull away from Fletcher’s town
car. He had to make a decision. Did he shoot, or let the car go? He paused long
enough to take aim and fired the Webley.

 

A tire expended all of its air out of the hole that appeared in its side. The car dragged
the rim for a few feet before the driver gave up.

 

Rafferty ran across the street. He used Fletcher’s car as cover as the driver of the
green sedan opened his door and got out. A pistol barked as the detective ducked
behind the trunk of the black vehicle.

 

He didn’t want to kill Bones before he had some clue to what was going on. On the
other hand, he wasn’t going to let the man keep shooting at him.

 

Rafferty slid down to the corner of Fletcher’s car. He peeked around the side. Bones
searched for him over the trunk of his car. The masked man smiled. He was searching
in the wrong area.

 

The detective took aim and shot Bones in the leg. The man collapsed to the sidewalk.
His pistol bounced once before settling on the concrete.

 

Rafferty rushed forward. Bones reached for the pistol where it lay on the sidewalk.
A boot to the head fixed that. The detective stepped back. He had a wounded captive
now. What did he do with the man?

 

He muttered an expletive. He had captured Bones, but he didn’t have anything to tie
him to the killings.

 

What did he do now?

 

He had burned down an illegal business and shot a suspected gunman. He didn’t have
a lot for his actions.

 

Fletcher arrived from his phone call a few minutes later. He looked down at the
wounded man. He scratched his head as he considered what he found.

 

“What have you done?,” he asked his agent.

 

“I kept this man from bleeding out,” said Rafferty. “And now I must go. Tell the
police whatever you feel will sell the story. Tell them I was afraid of you.”

 

Sir Laurence looked around. No one was on the street. The lights were out at the pub.
He frowned. Bones seemed to be out.

 

“Anything else?,” asked Sir Laurence.

 

“See if you can get them to test his pistol against the bullets from the house,” said
Rafferty. “That might be enough to lock him away for something.”

 

“Call in in two hours,” said the knight. “I might have something we can use to plan
our next move.”

 

Rafferty retreated from the scene. He pulled the mask down as he vanished into an
alley across the street from the block of buildings they were interested in.

 

Sir Laurence hoped he didn’t shoot anyone else before they knew what they were
doing. The note about Bones’s woman had thrown things into uncertain areas. Once
they knew what she knew, they could proceed with their campaign against Brown.

What did the Jerries want with Brown? Sources doubted he would work with them.
Maybe people were wrong about him.

 

Sir Laurence checked his watch. His watcher would be on the scene in minutes. Did
he dare leave Bones on his own to call the police to pick him up. He had to do
something. The man needed to be taken to a hospital.

 

The knight put the man in the back of his green car before going back to the phone
booth he had used earlier. He called the detective he had tasked with comparing the
bullets from the house shooting. He explained the situation and asked the man to
come down and pick up Bones.

 

He walked back to the green sedan. Bones was still breathing in the back seat. He was
happy about that.

 

A whistle blew in the distance. The local police were on the way. He could ask the
constable to secure the scene while he went about his business. He realized he might
be stuck for more than two hours trying to explain all this to the Yard.

 

They definitely needed to work on procedures so he wasn’t involved in missions. The
agency was supposed to act behind the scenes, not take the roles of witnesses to
manufacture crimes against its targets.

 

The cases should survive the court process without his input. Now he was on the
hook as a witness to something he didn’t witness taking place.

 

Perhaps he had been wrong about Rafferty. He hated to admit something like that. It
opened the question of what else he had misjudged.

 

Sir Laurence saw a constable running down the street. He waved a hand to direct the
man closer. He needed to hand over Bones and get to work on the rest of the problem
he was trying to solve. He still needed to put the auxiliary in place on the woman.

 

Where did she fit in?

 

“What’s going on, sir?,” asked the constable once he arrived by the green sedan.

 

“I found this man shot,” said Sir Laurence. “I put him in the car to make him
comfortable. This gun is his, I assume.”

 

He pointed at the revolver lying by the sedan.

 

The constable pulled out a handkerchief and picked up the revolver. He sniffed the
barrel and wrinkled his nose. He put the revolver on top of the sedan.

 

“Are you armed, sir?,” asked the constable.

 

Sir Laurence raised the tails of his jacket to show he wasn’t carrying a firearm. He
turned in a circle so the man could see that he didn’t have any obvious weapons.

 

“I’m going to have to write a report to file for whomever takes over and looks into
things, sir,” said the constable. He pulled out a pad and pen and held them to write
down the facts. “What’s your name, and how did you find this man?”

 

“I’m Sir Laurence Fletcher,” said the knight. “This is my car. I had been called here
to meet someone about a job that I needed done. So far he hasn’t arrived. I waited for
a bit, but I stepped away to call my office. I heard shots. When I came back to my car,
I found the wounded man laying on the ground. I did a home bandage which will not
last long and put him in his car.”

 

“How did you know this was his car?,” asked the constable.

 

“The door was open,” said Sir Laurence. “When I arrived, the car didn’t have anyone
inside it that I could see. This man wasn’t here. When I came back, he was laying
down beside his firearm. And there’s the bullet holes.”

 

The knight waved at the small marks on the car from being used as cover.

 

A car from the Flying Squad arrived. Two more constables got out on the street. The
first constable went over and told them what had happened. One of the men reached
inside and called back to headquarters. They assured him that an ambulance and more
men were on the way.

 

Sir Laurence made a note that he needed to outfit his commandoes with similar
devices so he could contact them in the field. Communications with Rafferty had
seemed simpler when he had thought of the operator system. Now he knew he needed
to keep a tighter rein on his agents so they do things like sticking him with a wounded
mobster and police scrutiny for the next few days.

 

He couldn’t run his organization and dodge detectives interested in what he was
doing.

 

He put false credentials on the list of things he might need in the future.

 

“Constable Wombell has told us your statement,” said one of the new constables from
the Flying Squad. “I’m going to need to look at your credentials to show that you are
who you say you are.”

 

Sir Laurence pulled out the leather folder he kept for his papers. He handed it over.
The constable looked things over before handing the wallet back.

 

“We don’t need to keep you any more tonight,” said the constable. “There will be
some questions when we figure out who this gentleman is, and how you can help us
narrow down things.”

 

“My office will be open to you, gentlemen,” said Sir Laurence. He wondered if any
of the three men worked for Brown, and if they knew that someone was looking for
Bones.

 

Could a trap be made from the wounded Bones and the uncertainty of what he had
revealed after getting shot?

 

Everyone knew a mad masked man had been looking for Bones. Would they think he
had given up after finding the man? Would they think he would move to another
target and wreck things until he found the right man?

 

How could they use this to force the Brown crime organization to move to better
climes and stay in exile?

 

He didn’t have a solution yet. Maybe Rafferty would come up with something with
his targeting of Billy Bones only leading peripherally to something major.

 

They needed to confirm the woman knew something about what was going on, and
that evidence was worth something to put people in prison, or hang them.

 

Sir Laurence got behind the wheel of his car and backed away from the green sedan.
That had been bad luck parking behind Bones’s car. At least Rafferty hadn’t shot his
car up when he had attacked.

 

He made a note that he needed a personal car he could call the office from while he
was out on business.

 

He turned in the street and headed pass the pub. The lights were off now. Had the
owner and servers hunkered out of the way when the shooting started. Someone
might have seen him talking to Rafferty. He couldn’t help that. He had to keep
working.

 

He spotted his investigator standing on the next corner. He pulled over at the curb.
He doubted the man wanted to be seen by the police while they were looking for a
shooter.

 

“How’s it going?,” said the auxiliary. His hair had turned gray while young, wrinkles
from exposure dotted his face, his suit looked like it belonged to his father. The eyes
were sharp and clear.

 

“Get in, Harry,” said Sir Laurence. “I have a job for you, and I don’t want to be seen
with you by the police.”

 

Harry got in the town car and settled into the seat. He leaned against the door as the
car started rolling again.

 

“This is the situation,” said Sir Laurence. “Billy Bones has been shot. He is on his
way to the hospital. I have been told he has a girlfriend that works at the Yellow
Rose. The only name I have is a Margaret, or Maggie. I want you to find that girl and
make a note on everyone she talks to until I tell you to stop.”

 

“So I need to identify this woman, confirm her occupation and relation to Bones, and
identify everyone she talks to until you say stop,” said Harry. “You’re looking at a big
undertaking as far as following the woman and identifying her contacts.”

 

“I’m looking for someone with connections overseas, Harry,” said Sir Laurence. “He
will probably be using an alias and a false history.”

 

“I’ll look into it,” said Harry. “Do you have a home address for this Margaret?”

 

“No,” said Sir Laurence. “Put that down on the things you have to find out and
report.”

 

“Police involved?,” asked Harry.

 

“They are transporting Billy Bones to the hospital in the hopes he survives the
gunshot wound in his leg,” said Sir Laurence. “I believe they think I will be identified
as the perpetrator since I called for assistance.”

 

“The easiest solutions are the best,” said Harry. He smiled at the thought of Sir
Laurence ever dirtying his hands enough to shoot someone.

 

“Thank you for that vote of confidence,” said the knight. “You probably won’t be
able to do anything on the block with the police there. If you want to start tomorrow
night, that’s understandable.”

 

“Don’t worry,” said Harry. “I’ll call your office and report anything I find out.”

 

“Thanks, Harry,” said Sir Laurence. “You might want to stay under cover until the
police are done looking for suspects. You don’t want to be taken in over this.”

 

“It’s no problem,” said Harry. “Let me off in the next block. I have to make some
calls to get started.”

 

Sir Laurence pulled to a curb to let his investigator out.

//166422

[csyphrett]

Loaded Starman: The Soldier to AO3

CES

 

[csyphrett]

Secret Service

1938-

7

Rafferty drove the city streets aimlessly. He had dropped Billy Bones in the hands of
the Yard. He couldn’t do anything else until he had a clear line of attack. He didn’t
know enough about the girlfriend to act against her.

 

Breaking into the Yellow Rose didn’t seem advisable. That would definitely trigger
some kind of interference from Six.

 

He needed another path. Chasing down Bones hadn’t gotten him anything he could
use.

 

Maybe he should talk to others he knew worked for Brown. He didn’t have to worry
about the spy business. If he wrecked enough operations, the spies would make an
alliance with someone else.

 

Rafferty wondered how Hawley did with the bullets from the shooting on the street.
Would they link back to Bones? He needed to make a call and find out.

 

Would Hawley be at his desk? It was almost ten. Maybe he would be there. Maybe
he was supervising something in the field.

 

He pulled his car over in front of a rectangular cube of a phone booth. He had to
know something before he acted again.

 

He might need to look at the files on Brown. Maybe there was something buried in
the notes that he could use. He had a broad sense of the man, but what he needed was
minutiae that he could use to drive a wedge in a chink in the man’s armor.

 

Dressing up as a mad man had helped him some. No one wanted to face a loon.
Getting hurt was so easy, and healing so hard.

 

Once he talked with Hawley, he needed to sit down and think of his next move.

He couldn’t go on flailing in the dark. He needed to pick a target and take it. Then he
needed to repeat the process. Finding Billy Bones so easy had been something he
hadn’t counted on. He had expected the man to go to ground after a murder.

 

Maybe Bones hadn’t killed Corklin. That was a possibility. Maybe he had hunted
down the wrong man on a bad assessment. Maybe the other man Hawley had
mentioned had been the one to take a shot at him. Or it could be someone they don’t
know about yet.

 

He dialed the phone number for Hawley’s office. Once he had talked to the Inspector,
maybe he would have a better idea of what was going on.

 

“Hawley,” said the inspector.

 

“It’s me, Inspector,” said Rafferty. “How are things going?”

 

“Someone acted fast on the shootings,” said Hawley. “Another man in the division
was ready to compare the bullets from Corklin to the house near the Unicorn. They
were the same.”

 

“Have you found Billy Bones yet?,” asked Rafferty. He didn’t need to mention he had
found Bones and put a bullet in him.

 

“They’re bringing him in right now,” said Hawley. “He had a weapon with his
fingerprints on it. He says a masked man shot him. You wouldn’t happen to know
anything about that?”

 

“No,” said Rafferty. “A masked man shot him? I’ll keep an eye out for him.”

 

“Stay out of the trouble,” said Hawley. “If the bullets match up from Bones’s weapon
to the two shootings that happened tonight, then he will stand trial for murder. If they
don’t, our masked friend shot Bones for nothing.”

 

“Good point,” said Rafferty. “I have to go, Inspector. I just saw someone I know.”

 

“Don’t do anything rash,” said Hawley. “We’re going over Corklin’s house. There
might be evidence he was paid to testify against you.”

 

“It’s too late to save my career, Inspector,” said Rafferty. “Watch out for yours. If
they put a fraud in motion to stop my testimony, what would they do to you?”

 

“Good point,” said Hawley.

 

“I’ll call back when the sun is up,” said Rafferty. “I have to go.”

 

Rafferty hung up the phone and left the booth. He scanned the street. He nodded
when he saw the same car moving along the street. He didn’t see any place to go. If
he went for the car, he would be shot trying to start the engine.

 

He started walking toward the car. He still had the Webley, even though the rest of
the disguise was in his car. He wondered who was driving the car.

 

Had they followed him around all night? Did they know what he had done? Did they
know about the deal with Sir Laurence?

 

The driver leaned out of the window of his car. He pointed a pistol at Rafferty. The
detective dove for cover. Bullets punched holes in the wall behind him as he pushed
himself down the sidewalk.

 

The car accelerated from the shooting. The driver took one look behind him but
couldn’t shoot backwards from the window. It turned a corner and vanished out of
sight.

 

Rafferty picked himself up. Maybe he had been wrong about Bones. Maybe there was
another guy trying to kill him. What was his next move?

 

He decided to call in and let Sir Laurence know he might be compromised. There was
no way to know how long the guy had been watching him, or if he had seen what had
happened at the casino, or Bones’s shooting.

 

He had no way of denying what he had done if the man revealed everything about
what he had done to the press.

 

How did he deal with this?

 

This was bad. Maybe moving from the flat provided by Sir Laurence had been the
thing to do in retrospect. If he had been followed long enough, then the man might
know about the place.

 

He needed a place to hide out that no one knew about. Then he had to think of a way
to get Brown and tie him to any scheme he was undertaking.

 

He stepped back in the booth and called the agency number. He might as well have
someone come out and collect the spent rounds. Maybe they would tie to other
crimes.

 

“Operator,” said the familiar second voice he had dealt with earlier in the night. “State
your name.”

 

“Rafferty,” said the detective. “Someone took a shot at me. I think I went after the
wrong man.”

 

“Right,” said the Operator. “I will let Sir Laurence know. Anything else?”

 

“See if you can dig up anything on a man named Jimmy Skillet,” said Rafferty. “He
supposedly died in a fire. Dig up what you can about that especially.”

 

“Is there a reason for this search?,” asked the Operator.

 

“I was given the names of two men who specialized in shooting from cars,” said
Rafferty. “I already turned one of those men in to the police. If the other is alive, I
would like to know it. Otherwise, I have a third man with the same method of
operations. Since I don’t know his name, I have to engage with what I do know so I
can rule out the second man.”

 

“Understood,” said the Operator. “I will start the search from my end. Call back in a
few hours.”

 

“Thank you,” said Rafferty. He hung up the phone. What did he do now?

 

Maybe Billy Bones would go to his trial for someone else’s murder. That was
acceptable to the detective. The core of his problem became the identity of the second
man. If he had been followed around town, the man might know where his flat was,
and where he had gotten the car.

 

He had to come up with a strategy to turn the tables on the man so he could find out
who the man worked for and how to bring them in.

 

There was not a lot he could do at the moment. Hawley and his investigators were
handling Billy Bones. Sir Laurence’s people were looking into Jimmy Skillet. Maybe
something would jump out at him when he had a nap.

 

And he wasn’t sure that Fletcher’s flat was safe since he didn’t know if he had been
seen going in and out of the building. This was the first night, so the landlord
probably didn’t know what his tenant looked like.

 

Maybe he should look over the scene of Jimmy Skillet’s death himself.

 

He realized he didn’t have the address. That would wait for the next phone call to the
operator.

 

What else could he do about this?

 

He decided the best thing he could do was get some sleep. He couldn’t chase down
leads that weren’t there. He needed to let Hawley and the Operator gather information
for him to use the next night.

 

He planned to go out the next night. He had jumped at Fletcher’s offer of a job to get
back at Brown for ruining his career. Now he wanted to go out because he wanted to
know how the pieces fit together.

 

He had to know what was really going on, and how everything fit together. He didn’t
have a choice in the matter now.

 

Rafferty found a small hotel away from the center of the city and checked in. His car
was parked in a public lot down the road. It was the best he could do for the moment.
The next step was to get some sleep and hope someone had answers for him in the
morning when he got started again.

 

He went up to his room and placed a chair under the knob to alert him to people
trying to get in. He placed a table and lamp in the window for the same reason. A
pillow went under the blanket on the bed. He lay on the floor with the bed between
him and the window.

 

He hoped his security arrangements were just paranoia. Two people shooting at him
in the night were more than that. He wondered if it was the same man as he dropped
off to sleep.

 

The sun coming into the window in the morning woke him up. He got up and looked
around. Everything was the same as when he left it. He needed to clean up and check
out.

 

The next thing he had to do was call in and see if he had any leads. Otherwise, he
would have to go around and talk to people he knew in the street.

 

They wouldn’t want to talk to him. He was a disgraced and fired detective from the
Yard. The only reason he had for coming around was getting back at whomever had
set him up. And he wouldn’t have the money for bribes or the threat of his authority
behind him.

 

He would have to make up for it with his own force of arms. He didn’t like that. It
meant making threats that he would have to carry out, instead of putting someone in
jail and letting things get sorted out from there.

 

It wouldn’t be the first time he had to get his hands dirty. Now that he was working
for Fletcher, he doubted it would be the last.

 

Rafferty cleaned up in the sink provided with the room. He put everything back and
headed downstairs. He paid his bill and stepped out in the street. He checked and
headed back to his car.

 

He checked the car and nodded when everything was like he left it. He got in and
started the engine.

 

What was his first move for the day?

 

His stomach growled and told him he had to get something to eat before he did
anything else.

 

Once he was done with breakfast, he would call Hawley and Fletcher. Maybe they
had something he could use.

 

Then he would start beating the bushes for anyone who wanted him dead.

 

He knew that could be a long list. The thought he had before he went to sleep bubbled
up in his mind as he drove around. Maybe he was facing two men who liked to shoot
from cars.

 

He turned that over in his mind. It might be possible. How did he prove it? Were they
linked to Brown? If they were smart, they wouldn’t talk.

 

Brown had a reputation for making people he didn’t like vanish. Other ganglords
dealt with him from a distance. An open war would cause problems for everybody
and no one wanted to be the one to fire the first shot.

 

But none of them liked Brown either, so he had no allies if things did turn into an
open war.

 

And if some outside force were to apply heat to Brown, the others would take what
they could from him. He couldn’t fight all of them and someone attacking his
operations.

 

How did Rafferty capitalize on that?

 

Maybe he should talk to the man. That might get him something. He didn’t know
what.

 

He didn’t want a bullet for his troubles.

 

Rafferty smiled at that. A bullet would be the least of his problems if he got a chance
to talk to Brown. The gangster didn’t allow a lot of people to get close to him. He
preferred to push his lawyer and his thugs out in front of the police.

 

There had to be a way to change all that. He didn’t see it. He needed something
Brown wanted so he could arrange a trade he didn’t plan to go through with so he
could figure out a way to change things around. He didn’t plan to run his whole life
from the underworld just because he had been that close to burying his enemy in a
prison for the rest of his life.

 

Brown, and everyone associated with him, were going to spend part of their life in
prison, or shot, when he was done.

 

He didn’t care which was which at this point.

 

He saw a phone on the wall near the desk for the hotel. He went over and put some
change in the slot at the top of the machine. He dialed Hawley’s number first. There
was a chance that the inspector had not arrived at his office yet. A call to make sure
would be all right.

 

“Hawley,” said the Inspector after the third ring.

 

“It’s me, Inspector,” said Rafferty. “Did you find out anything yet?”

 

“Not really,” said Hawley. “Bones’s gun has been tied to some murders in the foreign
crowd. I’m sitting on it so far. I don’t want to give him to the French until I know
what’s going on.”

 

“What about Corklin?,” asked Rafferty.

 

“No match there, or the other shooting last night,” said Hawley. “The bullets we
recovered don’t match Bones’s gun as far as our laboratory people can tell.”

 

“So I’m back to square one,” said Rafferty. “Who else had it in for both Corklin and
me?”

 

“Probably anyone who hated Mick Brown and wants to blame you two for letting him
off the hook,” said Hawley.

 

“That could be anybody,” said Rafferty. “I have to get started looking around. I’ll let
you know how things go.”

 

“Be careful,” said Hawley. “If they already took a shot at you once, they’re bound to
do it again.”

//168927

[csyphrett]

I haven't given up on this. This is the timeline so far

5000 BC- The Murmur tries to summon the Destroyer and is opposed by Nobody,
Cain, Memphis, Al-a-Din, and others in the Destroyer. The line of Kings is created
by the Destroyer.
1670- Bill Crenshaw is killed by a pirate hunter known as El Rey (The reincarnated
King) in Crenshaw.
1935- Bobby Benson takes over from Cain in the Heir. He becomes the Mark.
1938- Sir Laurence Fletcher starts the Commando X program with its first recruit,
James Rafferty. 
1956- Enemies of The Mark wound him and kill his friends and fellow spark bearers.
He lethally retaliates against them. Will Williams and Ann Baker were killed. The
Mark’s human side was wounded. Barberossa, Dr. Sybil, the Butterfly, Koal, and the
Spine were all killed by The Mark in the End of the Light.
1964- The Hazard Scouts help the Park Service with an animal enrager.
1969- The Mark helps his alternate Earth counterpart, Captain Spark in Across the
Divide. The Hazard Scouts are decimated by an unknown enemy in Showdown in a 
Small Town. Only Marty Morgan, the Animal Boy survives.  
1976- Cassie Troy cements her prophetic abilities by stopping a summoned monster
in a church for the life of her friend, Hector, in Cassie’s Knife. She is abetted by
Nobody. 
1979- Marty Morgan leads Corona, Cog, Finch and Ren against Watson Security and
their superpowered minions, The Squad, and rescues Barry Nicklaus and Cortez from
imprisonment in Revenge of the Scouts. 
1986- The Mark meets Eleanor, Carrie, and Money. He introduces them to Spiffy, and
Cassie Troy in the Sisters. Mark Hadron develops his lamp and begins to gather the
original Lamplighters in Light the Lamp.
1990- Eleanor, Carrie, and Money help the Robot Rangers fight a building come to
life in Tokyo in the Robot Ranger Rescue.
1992- Pablo Estevez introduces his trainee, Henry Harkness, to his mentors and
Cassie Troy at the Good Eats Diner in the Four Musketeers.
1995- Shirou Morita becomes M-37 after touching an orb left over from the
Apartment Man’s attack on Tokyo in M-37.
1996- Dr. Yamada tests a radioactive coat for M-37 in Testing for M-37
1997- M-37 responds to an earthquake in M-37's First Flight.
2002- Lynette Harkness is born to Henry and Martha June Harkness in Happy
Birthday.
2010- Jason Parley gains the sword of the King during a bust of cultists and their
summoned monster in Return of the King. Al-a-Din and his butler deal with a
bombing in Master and Servant. Memphis helps Moshe and Sara Levram against the
Dog Maker in Duel in the Desert. Tanner Lerner and Darla Huitt gain their powers
from a meteor in Ink Buttons.
2014- The Lamplighters are decimated. Three are killed. Mark Hadron lost an eye and
had a hand punctured.
2015- Jane Hillsmeirer talked to Mark Hadron about restarting the Lamplighters in
The Hermit. Jason Parley, the modern King, threatened a deal of nonagression with
the local mobster in A Parley. Denver McGinty picks up Kisara, Princess of the Genn,
on the side of the road and drops her off in New York City in Girl on the Road. The
basis for Lamplighters West is formed when four women ask Hadron for help dealing
with Crenshaw the ghost pirate in Splinter Cell. Marcel Hobart is the first new recruit
for the new Lamplighters in the Interview. Rangifer Tarandus, The Reindeer, evades
the Black Wolves trying to save a town in Norway in Special Delivery. Patty Page,
Kathy Baker, Lin Qi, Jean Lopez form the Lamplighters West and take on Crenshaw
with the help of Mark Hadron in Blue Flames over San Francisco. Roland Givens is
embedded with seven spirits by Amenophis and the Sons of Set despite interference
from Tanner Lerner and Lynette Harkness in Button Pushing. Bobby Iger and Maria
Garcia-Lopez join the Lamplighters after a talk with Harry Cho in Recruited. 
2017- The Mark is killed by the Queen of Genn in Make Your Mark. Lynette
Harkness helps fight the invasion in her training suit in New Girl.
 

[csyphrett]

Loaded The Cauldron of Chemical X

CES 

[csyphrett]

Secret Service

1938

8

Rafferty called the Operator. There was no news there either. Watchdogs were
following Bones’s girlfriend around. Since it was the first day they didn’t have
anything to report yet.

 

He wondered if she knew anything at all. He thought about Bones’s gun being tied
to foreigners being killed. He thought he saw the scheme there. What would she do
without an assassin to help her?

 

Would she get a new one, or simply go out of business? What would the Jerries do
without their terror machine in operation? Who else was involved?

 

That was the key to that mystery. If Fletcher’s people could find that out, they might
be able to turn everything against the controlling agent and handler.

 

Did he want to get involved in the play for another assassin recruitment? He decided
maybe later.

 

He wanted to talk to a couple of people first. He needed a way to get at the mystery
hitman, and Brown. He needed to be visible asking questions. He needed to show his
face if he wanted to act as bait.

 

He decided to save the car and costume for any night visits he might have to do. The
day was fair, so he might as well use the Underground to carry out his errands. When
he picked up the car, he could drive to any target he might need to use force to
persuade.

 

Rafferty decided that one person could tell him what Mick Brown was doing other
than the man himself. That person lived north of central London in the same
apartment that he had moved into when he was a kid. He could move on to other
places once he knew the lay of the land.

 

The detective used the Underground to get as close as he could before he waved
down a cab. He gave the driver the address he wanted and leaned back against the
backseat.

 

He noted a brown car following the cab, but there was nothing he could do about it
now. He had no way to close with it to get a look at the driver since he wasn’t driving.
And it was a free country. Anyone could use the road.

 

Rafferty made a note to keep an eye on it until he was sure the car wasn’t following
him. This might be his mystery shooter. If he could lure the driver in close, it might
be the chance he needed to prove the driver had killed Corklin and shot at him.

 

That would help close out part of the complicated mess and allow him to concentrate
on bringing in Brown.

 

The mob boss was tricky enough on his own. The mystery man just gave him cover
to do what he wanted to do.

 

“Drop me off at the next corner,” Rafferty said to his driver. “I’d like to take a minute
to stretch my legs before I talk to my acquaintance.”

 

“Not a problem, sir,” said the driver. “Just give me a second to pull up and everything
will be right as rain.”

 

The cab pulled to the curb. Rafferty noted the brown car had pulled out of sight as he
stood on the curb. He paid the driver and started toward the old apartment building
he wanted.

 

He wondered if the driver of the brown car was the man who had shot at him. Would
the man pay a visit to the apartment he was going to after he had left? He would warn
the tenant, but he doubted he could do more than that.

 

Rafferty entered through the gated main door to the lobby on the ground floor. He
went to the steps to go up. The elevator didn’t work, and he didn’t want to be caught
in the cab since he expected enemy action.

 

He paused when he reached the floor of the apartment he wanted to visit. He didn’t
hear, or see, anything out of the ordinary.

 

He walked down to the apartment door, flipping the number back up so it was a three
instead of an E. He knocked on the door. He kept away from the door, and an eye
watching the doors on the floor. He was fine with the occupant getting killed, but not
when he was there.

 

“Who’s there,” asked the weedy voice of the occupant.

 

“It’s Rafferty,” said the detective. “I need to talk to you for a minute, Spenser.”

 

The door opened. A thin man in his sixties with a cap covering his thinning gray hair
peered out. He had a small cigar stuck in his mouth. He exhaled a small snort when
he saw his visitor.

 

“What do you want, boy?,” asked Spenser. He stepped aside to allow Rafferty to
enter. “I’m retired. I don’t have time for your shenanigans.”

 

“I just need to talk to someone who knows more about how things work than I do,”
said Rafferty. He went to the window. He peered around the curtain at the street
below. The brown car was at the curb.

 

“I heard what happened,” said Spenser. He settled in his arm chair.

 

“That’s water under the bridge,” Rafferty said. “I have a new job. What I need is to
talk about what’s going on and hope you can give me some way to make sense of
things.”

 

“Go ahead with your blather,” said Spenser. “I have the Orchestra on the radio in a
bit.”

 

“Mick Brown might be tied in with a foreign government,” Rafferty said. He smiled
at the audible snort. “One of his men has apparently been shooting foreigners for
money. I have a strong suspicion that Brown doesn’t know about this side business.”

 

“Seems straightforward,” said Spenser. “You just have to catch the killer and let
nature take its course.”

 

“Here is the problem,” said Rafferty. “Corklin, the man who testified against me, is
dead. Someone has shot at me. I thought at first that it was Brown, but now I am not
so sure.”

 

“You were thinking it was Brown’s man tying off any problem,” said Spenser. “Now
it looks like another party is on the scene.”

 

“Exactly,” said Rafferty. “How do I prove that beyond a reasonable doubt? The Yard
has Brown’s shooter by now. I would rather think he will clam up and deny
anything.”

 

“Which means that you won’t know if you’re correct until he takes another shot,” said
Spenser.

 

“And any suspicious death can be blamed on the one shooter they know was going
around shooting people, so the Yard might not even look into another shooter unless
something happens,” said Rafferty. “Any suggestions?”

 

“The obvious thing is to set a trap,” said Spenser. “I know you’ve already considered
it.”

 

“Yes,” said Rafferty. “The problem is what do I use for a bait and where can I set it.
I expect he will be following me around to get another chance when I’m alone.”

 

“The area is obvious,” said Spenser. “Go to one of Brown’s clubs and see if you can
get in to talk to the man. Your second shooter will try to kill you when you leave the
club.”

 

“That sounds like the worst idea for a trap that I’ve ever heard,” said Rafferty.

 

“You won’t know if it won’t work until you try it,” said Spenser. “Let me know how
it goes.”

 

“Thanks, Spenser,” said Rafferty. “I’ll see what I can do.”

 

“Just remember Jimmy,” said Spenser. “This second shooter might be tied in with the
case you were trying against Brown. Maybe you should dig up some details on the
victim.”

 

Rafferty nodded. That made a little sense. He had thought he was dealing with a
stranger tied in with Brown and his gang. Maybe he was looking at a vigilante after
all. Who would the shooter target when he was sure Rafferty was dead?

 

There were quite a few people on that list. He expected Brown and his security would
get a visit. The barristers arguing the case might be held responsible. The judge could
also be a target.

 

A visit to Brown might be the thing he needed to turn things around. Once he had
done that, he should check in with Hawley and Fletcher. Maybe they had dug up
something while he was moving around.

 

If he could get his second shooter to shoot Brown, he found he didn’t have a problem
with that thought.

 

It was amazing how your perspective changed when you might be fighting for your
life against a killer used to striking from ambush and moving along criminal lines.

 

He said his farewells and left the apartment. He walked down the stairs with an eye
for anybody who might be looking up at him. He reached the lobby and walked across
it to the front door. He stepped out on the sidewalk and looked around for a cab, or
the local Underground entrance.

 

The brown car rolled behind him at good distance. Unless he wanted to pull the

Webley that Fletcher had given him and start shooting, he had to deal with it. He
thought about where Brown should be at the moment.

 

He should head over there and see if he could get in and talk to the man himself.
There was still a small chance that Corklin and him had been targeted by someone not
really caring about the single victim in the woods.

 

It was the only thing that tied him and Corklin together.

 

Rafferty walked down the street. He kept an eye out for the brown car as he looked
for a cab he could wave down.

 

Broad daylight with not that many witnesses around was almost as good as the dead
of night in his opinion.

 

He kept walking. He might be in the wrong part of town to pick up a cab. He might
have to try the Underground.

 

It didn’t matter how much time it took. There was no guarantee that Brown would be
anywhere he could reach without brute force. That time of day usually meant the
mobster was entertaining in his hotel rooms with a view of the city.

 

Rafferty doubted he would appreciate any intrusion in his holding court. The
detective smiled. All he had to do was get in the room and ruin the man’s day.

That would be something to think about.

 

Rafferty paused. He looked around. No one looked interested in him. He headed
down the street, looking for a call box. Hawley would know what he needed to know.
The inspector had a steel trap mind.

 

The idea might not lead to anything, but it kept him moving. And a moving target was
a missed target.

 

He spotted a callbox. Would Hawley be in yet? Would any of the other detectives
that would speak to him?

 

The man killed by Brown’s gang was named Louis Litner. They couldn’t find anyone
who was a member of his family, or closer than the neighbors on his street. That
didn’t mean they weren’t out there.

 

And Hawley would know if anyone had came forward to collect Litner’s body from
the coroner.

 

It was a long shot, but if he could find a suspect for his shooter, he could visit the man
when he was least expected.

 

And if he could turn him in with the pistol he had shot Corklin with, that would be
so much the better.

 

A better idea was to turn the fellow loose on Brown and wait for one of them to win
the war while he waited in the shrubbery for his chance to pile on.

 

Then he could worry about what he wanted to do as Fletcher’s masked vigilante.

 

He supposed he had already done something in that vein at the casino. Burning the
place down had been a bit too much. He hoped that he had hurt Brown’s pockets
enough to matter.

 

He spotted a call box ahead. If Hawley could find out anything else about Litner, that
might be enough to lay some kind of trap.

 

His other idea was to keep walking around until someone took a shot at him. He
didn’t think that as good as finding his opponent first.

//170956

[csyphrett]

Secret Service

1938

9

Rafferty paused across the street from the Lion’s Club. He looked up and down the
street. The brown car was parked down the street. He didn’t see the driver.

 

He didn’t like the car turning up now that he was about to walk in and talk to Mick
Brown. It was a complication he didn’t need.

 

Was he wrong about the driver?

 

Did the man work for Brown? Was he waiting for his target?

 

Was he waiting for Rafferty to show up?

 

The detective thought so.

 

Rafferty went to the door. He wondered if the doorman would let him in. He knocked
on the door. He waited for an answer.

 

The doorman opened the slot to look down on him. The eyes were unfriendly.

 

“What do you want?,” said the doorman.

 

“Mick Brown in?,” asked Rafferty.

 

“I’m not at liberty to say,” said the doorman.

 

“Ask him if he killed Bob Corklin,” said Rafferty. “I’ll wait for his answer.”

 

“Why would I do that?,” said the doorman.

 

“Because eventually the police will be by to ask him the same thing,” said Rafferty.
“Go ahead. Tell him Rafferty is waiting outside for him to come out unless he’s going
to hide in there forever.”

 

The slot closed.

 

Rafferty stepped back from the door. He looked the street over. The brown car still
sat in its place.

 

How long did he wait?

 

Did the driver want to see Brown too?

 

Was he in the club with Brown?

 

Rafferty wished he smoked. That might give him something to do other than think.

 

The door opened. The doorman looked down at him from the top of the three steps
leading up to the club door.

 

“Mr. Brown wants to talk to you,” he said.

 

“That’s good,” said Rafferty. He made a gesture with his hand. “Lead the way.”

 

The doorman stepped back from the door to let him by. He smiled slightly as he
walked inside. They didn’t plan to let him leave. He could see it in the man’s eyes.

That was okay. If he went down, he planned to take Brown with him.

 

The doorman shut the door. He led the way through the ground floor where the
members made use of parlors to talk about their latest ventures. He paused at the
bottom of a short staircase leading to a short hall.

 

“Mr. Brown is in room six at the end of the hall,” said the doorman.

 

“Thanks,” said Rafferty. He started up the stairs. He smiled. Room six had two thugs
in suits outside of it.

 

He walked forward, hands in his pants pockets. They looked like they expected him
to pause to be searched. He didn’t pause. He swung his left on that side. The other
man charged to grapple with him. Rafferty turned and threw his weight against the
other man. They crashed into the door. The detective used the other man’s head for
a door knocker. He dropped the guard on the other man.

 

Rafferty bent down and grabbed the other man’s head. He slammed it against the
floor of the hall. He searched them and retrieved their weapons. He tucked them in
his coat as he straightened.

 

He might need pistols more than they would in the next few moments.

 

Rafferty pushed open the office door. He stepped inside and looked around. He didn’t
see any more guards.

 

“Hello, Rafferty,” said Brown. “What are you doing here?”

 

“Just came by for a talk, Mick.” Rafferty closed the door. “I want to know what you
know about Bob Corklin getting shot in his place.”

 

“What makes you think I know anything about that?,” said Brown. He leaned back
in his chair. Its padded bulk was twice as big as he needed.

 

“Because he was the witness that got you off the hook,” said Rafferty. He went to a
sideboard. He poured himself a shot of whiskey. “And you are the one that ties up
loose ends.”

 

“I didn’t have to tie that off,” said Brown. “He had already done his job. Matter of
fact, I was getting ready to send him overseas to do some things for me in other
places.”

 

“So his death is an inconvenience,” said Rafferty. He sipped the whiskey.

 

“Yes,” said Brown. “What is it to you?”

 

“Nothing,” said Rafferty. “I was hoping to squeeze him until he gave me something
to use to break you.”

 

“Not likely,” said Brown. “You couldn’t stop me with a hundred Yards.”

 

“I don’t have to now,” said Rafferty. He finished his whiskey. “Someone killed
Corklin. I’m sure they’ll get you next. Have a good day, Mick.”

 

He put the glass down on the sideboard. He walked out of the office. He stepped over
the guards as he went down to the steps. The doorman wasn’t in sight. He walked
back the way he had come to the front door.

 

The doorman stepped out of a cubby set aside for him to relax from his duties. He
pulled the door open for the detective to leave.

 

“Thank you,” said Rafferty. He smiled. “Keep an eye out. Someone is looking for Mr.
Brown.”

 

“Someone other than yourself?,” said the doorman.

 

“Yes,” said Rafferty.

 

The detective stepped out of the club. He looked down the street. The brown car was
still there.

 

He didn’t like it. Where was the driver? Was it the same car?

 

Rafferty decided to take a closer look. He checked the street as he walked toward the
car. He didn’t see anyone out.

 

He looked inside the car. He spotted trash on the floorboard on the passenger side. He
opened the door and slid inside behind the wheel. He opened the glove box. He
pawed at the papers in the box.

 

He frowned at the name on the paperwork. He was sitting in a dead man’s car.

He looked around. He saw a figure in coat and hat bundled up in a niche so he could
look up and down the street. The man pointed a gun at the window of the car.

 

Rafferty ducked. Bullets pushed glass on him. He shook his head. He had hoped to
catch the other man unaware. He should have known that the other man would wait
on him to get a clear shot.

 

Now he was pinned down inside the car. The man could just walk up and finish him
off.

 

It was a good thing he had taken those guns from Brown’s guards.

 

Rafferty took the pistols out of his coat pocket. He peeked over the dashboard. He
saw the man advancing toward the car. He started firing back through the window.
That should give the mystery man something to think about while he thought about
trying to get out of the car.

 

Rafferty pushed out of the open door. He fell on the street. He had the body of the car
as a shield now. He looked under the car but didn’t see any feet. He couldn’t shoot
the other man in the limbs if he couldn’t see him.

 

He stood. One of the pistols tracked across the hood of the car. The shooter was
behind another car up ahead.

 

Rafferty frowned. How did he cross that space without getting shot? He ducked down
as the other man lined up another shot and took the mirror off.

 

He looked around. He needed to move. Where could he go?

 

He decided there was something he could do. It was risky, but it was a notion that
might give him the upper hand.

 

He reached under the dashboard and worked the wiring. The engine turned over for
him. He slid behind the wheel. He pressed the gas down and directed the car out of
the slot and toward where his enemy waited.

 

Bullets dug into the body of the car. He fired back through the window. He didn’t
think he had scored a hit.

 

He slammed the brakes. He jumped out of the car and aimed a pistol into the space.
Where had the mystery man gone?

 

Rafferty cautiously went around the front of the brown car. He looked the area over.
Brown and his guards were in the door of the club. The mobster shook his head.

The detective frowned. There was only one way the guy could have gone. He didn’t 
like to chase anyone down an alley.

 

He looked at Brown and his bullies. The mobster made a be my guest gesture. The
detective frowned at them.

 

Rafferty moved forward. He paused at the mouth of the space. He didn’t see anything
moving. He decided that if he could reach the first trashcan without getting shot at,
then he could try for the end to check to see if the shooter was waiting at the end.

Nothing moved. He paused behind the trashcan. No one shot at him. He looked
behind him. Brown wasn’t in evidence.

 

He moved down to the end of the alley. He didn’t see the man in the coat. He cursed 
as he looked up and down the street.

 

Rafferty smiled. The guy was slippery, but he was on foot. There was no way he
would go back for the car now that he had lost it.

 

Rafferty started back down the alley. He still had to explain this to any constable that
showed up to ask what was going on.

 

He paused when he heard the roar of an engine. He started running. The man in the
coat had got around him to get the car.

 

He burst out of the alley in time to see the car roll away. Brown pulled back from the
doorway. The driver fired at the club as he passed.

 

Rafferty didn’t bother shooting at the car. There was no way to hit the driver from
where he was.

 

He walked over to where Brown and his men had taken cover. He put the stolen
pistols away.

 

“Looks like I’m not the only one he’s looking to get rid of, mate,” said Rafferty.
“Maybe you should flee the country.”

 

“Aren’t you going to protect me?,” said Brown.

 

“I’m not a policeman any more,” said Rafferty.

 

He started down the street. What was he going to do now?

 

He needed to check in with Hawley and Fletcher. The car belonged to the man Brown
had killed. Who had the access? That was his lead.

 

If he knew who could get the car from where it was, that would give him a lead on the
gunman.

 

On the other hand, he had an idea he was looking for a relative of Litner’s. The police
had missed them during the investigation.

 

Another fork was a friend that had decided to take up arms.

 

Rafferty knew that Brown wasn’t involved in this. It didn’t mean much, but with the
mobster being a target, he didn’t have to worry about the man coming after him until
he had this situation straightened out.

 

He needed some food and drink. Then he could think of some way to track his
problem down and deal with him.

 

Maybe Fletcher had some kind of thoughts where he should go next.

 

Rafferty looked back at the club. The members were going to have to get someone to
fix the front of the building.

//172833

[csyphrett]

secret service

1938-

10

Inspector Hawley looked up from the paperwork on his desk. Catching Billy Bones
with the gun that had killed a mass of his fellow countrymen, and foreigners touring
the city, had been a stroke of luck.

 

The case had been sent over to the Crown as part of business. Bones refused to finger
who had hired him.

 

There was no doubt that Mick Brown had ordered some of the hits he had carried out.

 

The victims had been rival mobsters getting in Brown’s way.

 

His phone rang. He wondered who was going to rain on his parade now.

 

“Hawley,” he said into the receiver.

 

“Hello, Inspector,” said the voice of his latest pain in the neck.

 

“What do you want?,” said the inspector.

 

“I have a lead,” said James Rafferty. “I need your help with it.”

 

“Go ahead,” said Hawley. He pulled a notebook close and picked up his pen.

 

“The man that I am chasing is driving Litner’s auto,” said Rafferty. “I was able to
look inside the glove box for a moment.”

 

“Are you sure?,” asked Hawley. He made a note to call down to the records bureau

and get the license number.

 

“Yes,” said Rafferty. “Also whomever it is, he doesn’t work for Brown. He tried to
kill Brown as well as me.”

 

“So we have a third party on this,” said Hawley. He shook his head. “And the
connection is the failed murder case against Brown.”

 

“I would say so,” said Rafferty. “Where was the car kept? I don’t remember a car at
the home.”

 

“I don’t either,” said Hawley. He looked at the files on his desk and pulled out the
relevant one. “There was no mention of Litner owning a car from the file.”

 

“So no one we talked to knew he owned one,” said Rafferty. He paused for a second.
“And he had no family, or close friends?”

 

“That’s what the interviews said,” said Hawley. “Obviously he had one true friend
that wants to get back at the people who killed him. Good on you for that.”

 

“I know,” said Rafferty. He paused as if considering something for the first time.
“Wasn’t Litner in the Army?”

 

“Yes,” said Hawley. “But you know his record will be guarded from outside
agencies.”

 

“I know somebody I can call,” said Rafferty. “Maybe he can get a look at the record
and give me somewhere to go.”

 

“If you’re wrong?,” said Hawley.

 

“Then we’ve lost nothing since we have nothing,” said Rafferty.

 

“That seems about right,” said Hawley. He scanned the file. He noted that there were
bills for a storage company not far from the victim’s place of residence. “Try the Sure
Lock Storage Company.”

 

Hawley gave the address that went with the bill.

 

“There were two receipts found for the place,” said Hawley. “It might be big enough
for a car.”

 

“Thanks,” said Rafferty. “I’ll check it out.”

 

“All right,” said Hawley. “Let me know if you find anything. I have to talk to Billy
Bones and then try to find more evidence to close his case on the docket.”

 

“Talk to the girlfriend,” said Rafferty. “Maybe she will help you.”

 

“Doubt it,” said Hawley. He looked at the file one more time before he closed it. “Be
careful at this storage place. If the car is still being stored there, then the shooter is
still visiting.”

 

“Don’t worry,” said Rafferty. “I can take care of myself.”

 

The line went dead. Hawley hung up the phone. He had nothing better to do. He could
talk to Bones’s girlfriend and see if there was something to it.

 

First, he had to talk to Bones. Maybe the man would give him something he could
use. It couldn’t be a coincidence that his gun had been used to kill targets speaking
out against the Jerries.

 

Bones wasn’t political, so someone had paid him to operate on the side while he was
still working for Brown. Did Brown know that? Would he care? More importantly,
would he get rid of Bones just to erase a loose end when it had nothing to do with
him?

 

Hawley felt that Bones was as good as dead as soon as he entered a prison.

He found a lack of concern a problem, but it was something he would have to deal
with like he dealt with all of his problems. He would have a pint and play some darts
until he felt better, or took everyone else’s money.

 

That should put him right as rain so he could chase the next rabbit that came his way.

Hawley walked down to the desk. He asked for the sergeant on duty to have the
prisoner escorted to the interrogation room. He needed a talk with the man before he
asked the lady in his life some questions.

 

If he could prove the connection to the German Intelligence machine, he could export
his problem to the Counterintelligence office at MI-5. They could share Bones
with their fellow services.

 

And maybe they would be able to crack Brown with their extralegality.

 

He hoped their reasoning would follow his own, but there was no way to tell. Brown
was a local problem. It was doubtful he would be a national security threat
except under the most narrow of circumstances.

 

Hawley walked down to the block that included the cells for people of interest
and the interrogation room. He hoped he could wring some kind of clue from the
prisoner so he could figure out what was going on.

 

Rafferty’s ouster might have been a blessing in disguise. He could do things that the
police couldn’t. If he kept pushing for answers on the outside, that might make it
easier for Hawley to push from inside.

 

He had been chasing Mick Brown for a long time. The man was as slippery as an eel.
This latest trial where Corklin had stepped in and offered testimony to impugn
Rafferty was just another in a line of dirty tricks.

 

The problem was they couldn’t break the frame fast enough to clear Rafferty. And the
higher ups didn’t want the frame broken at all.

 

He wondered about that, but with Corklin dead, he had no way to fix things. Rafferty
was considered just as guilty as if the charges had been proven beyond a doubt.

 

He arrived at the interrogation room. He pushed open the door. Bones and his guards
were already present. The two constables stood in the corners of the room. Bones sat
the table. They had fitted him with manacles so he couldn’t attack any of them.

Hawley thought that was a wise precaution.

 

He sat down opposite the gunman. He leaned back in his chair. What could he say to
get anything out of this man?

 

Could he say anything?

 

“What do you want?,” Bones demanded.

 

“Nothing,” said Hawley.

 

“I don’t believe that for a minute,” said Bones. “Why bring down the hall then?”

 

“Maybe to see if you can still walk,” said Hawley. “Who shot you, Billy? Let’s start
with that.”

 

“It was some masked man,” said Bones. He tried to wave his hands but the manacles
prevented wide movements. “He was wearing a uniform from the Great War and a
union jack over his face. I thought I had him, but he shoots me in the leg, and takes
off. The next thing I know this toff is handing me over to the peelers.”

 

“You think this toff and the masked man could be the same man?,” asked Hawley.

 

“No,” said Bones. “He was taller and he had a different car. I saw it when he left. The
first car I shot at was gone.”

 

“Your gun was tied to some killings, Billy,” said Hawley. “We’re in the middle of
asking our counterparts across the channel how they want to handle this. We’re going
to reserve the right to try you. That should take care of extradition.”

 

“It was the masked man’s gun,” said Bones.

 

“Really?,” said Hawley.

 

“Yes,” said Bones. “He must have dropped it when he fled.”

 

Hawley scratched his eyebrow. He frowned at the gunman.

 

“So the masked man shoots you with the pistol we found you with, and drops it on
you,” said Hawley. “Then he flees before the patrolmen can arrive.”

 

“That’s right,” said Bones.

 

“That’s stupid,” said Hawley. He leaned forward. “The bullet in your leg came from
an old .38, the gun dropped was a .45, and your fingerprints are all over it and on the
bullets. I think the masked man is a figment of your imagination. I think you tried to
shoot some victim who decided that he would rather fight back, perhaps someone
attached to Mick Brown, and you got shot. I think that’s a better explanation than
some masked man, don’t you?”

 

“That’s not what happened,” said Bones. “I told you the truth.”

 

“Except about where the gun came from,” said Hawley. “Does Mick know you’re
doing work on the side?”

 

“No,” said Bones. “Why would I tell him that? He would want a cut.”

 

“What do you think he’ll do now that you’re going away?,” said Hawley.

 

“He’ll get another bully boy until I get out,” said Bones. “You don’t have a case
except for that gun, and any explanation can be given for that with the right barrister.”

 

“I’m going back to my office,” said Hawley. “I’m going to decide whether to cut you
loose and pick up Mick Brown on your testimony, or see what the Crown prosecutor
wants to do. They might second you over to Intelligence to see if our brothers can

squeeze something out of you.”

 

“You can’t do that,” said Bones. “I have rights.”

 

“You killed twenty six people according to your gun,” said Hawley. “It will be my
pleasure to turn you into a target and let whomever wants you have you. That would
be a certain amount of justice in my opinion.”

 

“What do you want from me?,” asked Bones.

 

“Everything,” said Hawley. “I want to know who paid you, who got killed and why,
how many more are in it with you, and everything else. If you got paper, I want that
too.”

 

“You can’t be serious,” said Bones.

 

“I want it all, Billy,” said Hawley. “I want enough that if you die, I don’t have to
dig up another pigeon.”

 

“This could get me killed,” said Bones.

 

“Don’t give me anything, and I will hang a noose around your neck and see who I can
flush out with you as the bait,” said Hawley.

 

Bones looked up with a hand over his face.

 

“Don’t cry,” said Hawley. “It will go over a lot smoother.”

 

“I hate you,” said Bones.

 

“That’s no way to talk to your new best friend,” said Hawley.

 

“I hate you even more,” said Bones.

 

“Get Mr. Bones some paper, Constable Packard,” said Hawley. “As soon as we get
something we can check and prove, we can talk about reducing the charges.”

 

Constable Packard left the room. He returned with a pad and pen.

 

“I would rather plead guilty and take my sentencing,” said Bones.

 

“If it makes you feel better, you probably won’t get a trial,” said Hawley. He gestured
for the other man to start writing. “Everything depends on what you tell us.”

 

“No trial?,” said Bones. He started writing. “What does that get me?”

 

“A bunch of nameless men talking to you about what you’ve done,” said Hawley.
“Then a bullet in the back of the head when they don’t need you anymore.”

 

“I would rather take my chances in prison,” said Bones. He frowned as he put down
his confession.

 

Hawley knew the prisoner had to get his assignments from somewhere. If Bones
betrayed his handler, that would be another link in the chain.

 

And once they picked that man up, they could see if he would tell them who he
worked for until they reached the end of the line.

 

It wasn’t perfect, but it gave him something to do while he waited on Rafferty to give
him something else to chase.

 

He didn’t like a masked man showing up while Rafferty was trying to gather enough
evidence to stop a murderer. The timing was suspect in his mind.

 

He would deal with Rafferty about it when this was over and done.

[csyphrett]

Secet Service

1938-

11

Rafferty looked at the storage lot and frowned. A fence kept out the casual intruder,
while a guard checked everyone going in and out. He turned and walked away. He
needed to make an entry close to night to check if the car was there.

 

If the car was there, he could sit on it until the driver came to pick it up. Then they
could have a talk about shooting someone on the street. If the car wasn’t there,
he could wait and talk to the man when he arrived.

 

Everything hinged on the car being there. Once he knew that, he knew which path to
take.

 

He certainly wasn’t going to ask Hawley to watch the thing on a hunch.

 

The police had other leads to chase down on their own. Anything he told them that
pointed back to him would destroy whatever case they could build. It had been sheer
luck that he had taken Bones while wearing Fletcher’s masked persona.

 

As long as he could keep the vigilante side of things out of most of the limelight,
he could use it to figure things out and fix problems. As soon as anyone knew about
it, he was done.

 

No one would be able to take his help because a vigilante was not welcome in Her 
Majesty’s service. Fletcher would have to cut him loose to avoid embarrassment.

But he might as well use the mask while he could to solve Corklin’s murder and put
the screws to Brown as long as he could before something happened to him.

 

Rafferty went to his car. The easiest thing to do would be to drive up and see if he
could store his car in the lot. That would give him temporary access, but he would
still have to break in to check on Litner’s vehicle.

 

He decided the best thing to do was to drive around and see if there was a back to the
lot he could pierce. Then he could move in and check on his target.

 

Once he had decided on a plan upon confirmation of the car’s presence, he could
execute the plan and capture the driver.

 

Once he had the guy, it would be up to Hawley to figure out how to take the case
before the Crown. It would be rough since the only witness was someone who was
dead.

 

That part wasn’t Rafferty’s problem since he wasn’t a detective any more.

 

He started the engine of his car and drove around the block, watching the buildings 
crouching over the street. The man he wanted could be in any of those places he could
see from the street.

 

He wondered if the killer knew he was closing in on him. Did that matter in the long
run? The man wanted to kill him. Rafferty showing up on his doorstep would be an
excuse for a gun battle.

 

Rafferty pulled to the curb at a point where he judged the car lot should be. He pulled
on the great coat, mask, and cap for a partial disguise. He buttoned the coat to hide
his suit. He got out of the car.

 

No one seemed interested in him. He smiled under the mask. That was a good thing.

 

He knocked on the door of the row house he wanted to enter. He wanted to go
through and out the back to get to the car lot. He didn’t want to deal with a resident
if he didn’t have to do that.

 

He listened at the door. He didn’t hear anyone moving around. He pulled out a set
of keys and tried each one in the lock until he got one that opened the door. He
stepped inside and closed the door behind him.

 

He moved to the back of the place, looking out the back window. The fence from the
storage lot stood across a narrow path that fed the back of the row from either end.

It wasn’t big enough for a car, but a man could run to either end quickly if he could
get over from the other side.

 

Rafferty cursed that he hadn’t thought to bring something to cut through a fence with
him.

 

Rafferty stepped outside into the small yard behind the building. It was cut off from
the yards on either side by low brick walls. He closed the back door behind him
before he walked over to the fence.

 

At least there wasn’t any barbed wire on the top of the fence. That would have added
more risk for him as he climbed over the fence.

 

He pulled himself to the top of the fence and swung over the cross post. He climbed
down as silently as he could. He turned and looked around the lot. Where was the car
he wanted?

 

Rafferty started walking the lot. He didn’t have a lot of time before someone called
to have his car towed away from the front of the house row. He had to find the Litner
car as quickly as possible. Then he could decide what he wanted to do with the
information.

 

He found the car parked out of the way in a fence corner. Nothing else was close. He
noted the storage people would have to walk out of their way to notice the car amidst
some of the rest in the lot.

 

He checked to make sure he had the right car. He looked around for a place to watch
the car from inside the fence. Once the driver showed up, they could talk about the
rights of the individual for personal justice while they waited for Hawley to take the
guy away.

 

He checked to see if he had a view from the street before retreating from the car. He
had to do something about his own car before it was noticed.

 

He climbed back over the fence and went to end of the brick block. He headed to his
car. He got behind the wheel and drove down until he found an empty spot to park.

 

He got out and and went to the alley. He walked down to a spot closer to the car and
climbed the fence again. He found a place to wait and used a car for cover to watch
Litner’s car.

 

Hopefully, no one would need their cars from the back row before the other masked
man got his car.

 

Rafferty leaned against his adopted car and kept watch for anyone passing on the
street, or entering the lot on foot. He checked his watch as he waited. If this didn’t
pan out, he would call Fletcher and have one of his men watch the lot.

 

If they could catch the killer, that would move things away from him and his new job.

Rafferty saw a figure in a coat approaching the corner. He ducked down as he
watched the figure walk down to the corner and head toward the gate. The figure
entered the lot with a wave at the guard.

 

Rafferty pulled his Webley. If he approached the car, bullets were going to fly.

The figure went to another car and pulled out of the slot. The car drove slowly out of
the lot.

 

Rafferty relaxed and put the pistol away. At least he hadn’t shot the fellow by
accident. That would have spoiled the whole trap.

 

He shook his head. He had to be a little more patient. He couldn’t shoot a stranger
without evidence of a crime.

 

He hoped the killer would show up before he lost patience and started looking around
for something to do.

 

Rafferty wondered if he could hide in the car. Maybe he could get a nap while he
waited.

 

In any case, he could call Fletcher when he got bored. Then he could hand the car off
to a watchman.

 

Rafferty opened the trunk and fell inside. He closed the trunk lid. He pushed the back
seat so he could get out of the trunk and into the body of the car.

 

He settled in the dark and waited. He should have thought some more about this plan
before he decided on it.

 

Did he really even have a plan?

 

He decided that waiting for a murderer in his car was a plan. It was a mad plan, but
a plan. It was simple, and didn’t require much effort.

 

He also decided that he should have asked someone else to do it since he didn’t like
waiting around.

 

Impatience had always been a weak point for him. He had tried to train it so it didn’t
interfere with his cases. You couldn’t beat a confession out of all your arrests. That
was statistically unlikely to net you the right man.

 

He heard someone walking outside the car. He pulled the Webley and waited. If the
driver opened the trunk, he had to make sure the lid couldn’t come down and block
him from making his arrest.

 

And he didn’t want to have to shoot through the lid if he didn’t have a target.

The door opened and shut. The engine turned over. The car started rolling.

 

Rafferty pushed on the back seat. He pulled himself out of the trunk space. He pulled
the Webley and waited.

 

He sat up. The driver slammed the brakes. He slammed into the front seat and
dropped the pistol.

 

The driver pushed open the door, and jumped out. The car started rolling on its own.
Bullets struck the door as Rafferty fell in the floorboard. His hand wrapped around
the Webley as glass fell on top of him.

 

Rafferty winced as the car hit another car in the lot. That stopped the car at least. He
pushed up enough to look out the windows. His target was fleeing toward the fence.

He had six shots in the Webley. He didn’t want to waste them, or hit anyone in the
houses behind the lot.

 

The killer ran to a car next to the fence and used that as a stepladder. He turned and
fired at the car. Rafferty ducked down as the bullets blasted at the back window.

 

The masked man fired back to keep his target from jumping over the fence and
getting away. He broke the Webley open and dumped the bullets into his hand. He put
the empty casings in his coat pocket.

 

He loaded the pistol before he pushed the door open so he could get out of the car.
He didn’t see the killer at first. Then he saw the man running down the alley.

 

Rafferty took aim over the hood of a car. He fired through the fence at his target. He
saw the killer go down in the alley floor.

 

“That was a lucky shot, idiot,” Rafferty told himself.

 

He did the same thing that the killer had done and used a car to get to the top of the
fence and drop down to the other side. He ducked behind the low wall. The killer
blasted the brick with the rounds left in his pistol.

 

Rafferty waited. He still had five out of the six reloads. He ducked out to take a look.
The killer was gone.

 

“I can’t believe this,” muttered Rafferty. “Now I have to hunt this spalleen down.”

 

He slid over the low wall. He didn’t see a target. He walked across the small yard.
The next yard had plants on their divider wall. He pushed the pots out of the way and
hopped over to the next yard.

 

He wondered what the killer planned to do now. A bullet hole put a crimp in your
plans.

 

Rafferty hopped the next wall. He spotted a blood trail heading into the house
attached to the yard.

 

He walked to the back door. He pushed it open with his empty hand. Nothing came
at him.

 

He peeked into the kitchen. He spotted the blood trail heading to the front of the
house.

 

He walked along the blood trail. He wondered if his victim would bleed out before
he got help. He opened the front door of the house. He noted there was no blood
on the steps heading down to the sidewalk.

 

He turned and brought up the Webley. He saw a knife coming down and shot. The
killer staggered back. He shot again, taking time to go for the other leg so his victim
couldn’t run away.

 

Rafferty kicked the man in the head. He put the Webley away. He needed to do
something about this mess.

 

He needed to call Hawley and Fletcher. Once he had told them the news, he could
clear out and let the machine do the rest.

 

He didn’t know if he could explain any of this to either of them.

 

Rafferty looked around. He found a phone on a table in the parlor. He went over and
called the Operator. Once Fletcher knew what was going on, he could move his whole
organization to do whatever he needed.

 

“Operator,” said the Operator. “State your name.”

 

“Rafferty,” whispered Rafferty. “I think I have Corklin’s killer. Can you alert the
authorities?”

 

“Yes,” said Operator. “Anything else?”

 

“You might want to hurry,” said Rafferty. “I had to shoot him.”

 

“We will move fast,” said the Operator.

 

“I’ll call you later,” said Rafferty. He hung up the phone. He walked back to where
his victim moaned on the floor. “Hurts, doesn’t it?”

 

Rafferty pulled the mask off the killer. He frowned at the sweaty face glaring back
at him. He used the mask to cover the wound in the leg and tied it off with the
woman’s belt.

 

“The police are coming for you,” said Rafferty. “They’ll talk to you about killing
Corklin. Now that you’re out of the way, I can go back to doing what I need to do.”

 

“I’ll kill you, Rafferty,” said the woman. “You let Brown get away with killing my
father.”

 

“I didn’t let him get away with anything,” said Rafferty. “If you hadn’t killed Corklin,
I would have been able to squeeze him until he admitted what he had done. Now, I
can’t. Good going.”

 

“You wouldn’t have done anything,” said the woman.

 

“I stopped you,” said Rafferty. “I’ll take that as doing something. Goodbye.”

 

Rafferty walked out of the house. He looked around to see if anyone was checking
on what happened. He walked down the street, pulling off his mask. He put the mask
away in his coat as he headed for his car.

 

He needed to think about what the next step should be.

 

//177324 

[csyphrett]

secret service

1938-

12

Rafferty returned to his seat at the Rotten Unicorn. He had Corklin’s killer, and
Bones, but he was no closer to getting Brown. The spy ring would have to be
someone else’s problem for the moment.

 

Sir Laurence would have to spend some of his resources on keeping things in check
while he figured out what to do.

 

He supposed that his time as a masked vigilante was coming to an end. The woman
would tell everyone that he was the masked man on the scene. He had motive, means,
and opportunity. Maybe he could throw the authorities off the track if he could get
someone to impersonate the masked man while he was visible somewhere else.

He didn’t know how well that would go over with Brown. The mobster was not
stupid, and would take a lot of convincing that Rafferty and the masked man were not
the same man.

 

And he didn’t know if he could be that convincing. Sometimes trying to make people
think that you were not the target and someone else was just made them think you and
the someone else were in things together.

 

Hawley would want him to come down to be questioned. How did he get out of that?
He had used the Webley taking both murderers. Ballistics would match the gun to the
two attacks.

 

Hawley would see through any alibi. He would know that Litner’s avenger was telling
the truth as soon as he had a chance to talk to Rafferty. The ex-detective couldn’t get
out of that except by fleeing the police.

 

And Brown would want to put the squeeze on if he thought there was some kind of
profit in letting his own masked man run around London sorting out his enemies for
him.

 

There had to be a solution to this problem.

 

At least Bones was not shooting anyone while he was waiting for the bullethole in his
leg to heal.

 

And the worst thing about the situation was he had dropped everything on Sir
Laurence to fix and walked away.

 

It might have been better to have shot the woman and left her for someone to find.

Then Hawley would have to prove he was involved somehow instead of knowing it.

 

Rafferty smiled at the sentiment. Killing someone in cold blood was beyond him. If
he had to shoot a man, he would rather do it when he had some reason to do it.

 

He ordered some eggs and tea while he thought about his next move. He needed 
some way to wreck Brown’s organization without an open confrontation.

 

He needed a way to get at the accounting. That would help him look for chinks in the
armor. Then he could work out how to let the police do most of his job.

 

It would make the Yard look like heroes cleaning up the city. He could live with that.

How did he get what he wanted?

 

Rafferty decided the needed a way to get at the money. Once he had that, he could
dictate terms to Brown. That wouldn’t go over well in his opinion.

 

He didn’t know enough about that side of Brown’s operations. Maybe Hawley did.
He couldn’t ask. That would lead to exposure of his new double life beyond one
woman claiming it.

 

He needed to minimize that as much as possible if he wanted to continue.

The money had to be the key. He needed to seize it in such a way Brown couldn’t
earn anything as long as he was holding it hostage.

 

Then he could use that to force something out in the open.

 

He decided that wasn’t a perfect plan, and wasn’t going to be as easy as he thought
while he ate his breakfast and readied for the day.

 

Maybe Fletcher knew a vulnerable target he could target and take apart. He seemed
to know things that maybe he shouldn’t. Someone might have told him who did
Brown’s accounting.

 

Rafferty would love to wipe Brown’s smirk right off his face.

 

Rafferty finished his meal. He left money on the table to cover the bill before he left.
He needed to figure out how to get at Brown. That meant walking and talking to
people who would rather not be seen talking to him.

 

Once he had enough information, he could make his move.

 

Maybe he could suit Brown up for a frame while he was about his business. That idea
entertained him as he walked down the street.

 

He decided that looking at Brown’s club would give him something to work on. The
actual business of running his criminal empire was somewhere else, but maybe he
could pick up something he could use.

 

Maybe he would be able to pick up someone who could be made to talk. He needed
something to get started. Anything would do at this point.

 

At least he didn’t have to deal with the false clues of Bones, and Litner, now. He only
had one challenge to work on and he could take as long as he wanted. The target
wasn’t going to run to a country where he couldn’t be extradited back to England to
stand trial.

 

If he did run, that might solve Rafferty’s problem before he could.

 

The ex-detective smiled. No way would Brown run. He would stay and fight out any
legal action.

 

He made a note to avoid Hawley for the foreseeable future. He didn’t need his old
boss connecting him to the new vigilante in town.

 

Rafferty made his way across town. He wasn’t in a hurry, and it would be better if he
had some idea of what happened at the club. Once he had an idea of how to get in, he
could think about what he needed to find when he was inside.

 

Maybe he should stop by the building people and see if there were plans for the
building he could peruse. That would help him figure out if there were hidden
passages and such.

 

It was the expected thing if the building was old enough.

 

The chances of a secret passage were low. A hidden safe was a better bet in his
opinion.

 

Rafferty spotted the club approaching on his right. He expected a lookout to warn
Brown that he was coming to see him. He looked around and found a two story store
he could enter. He walked past the garments on display to the back of the building.
He used the back door to drop down in a space that trucks used for dropping off
supplies.

 

He looked around as he walked along. He discovered a fire escape on one of the
buildings. He slid a trash can over to get under the bottom rung of the ladder. He
jumped up and grabbed that rung. He pulled himself up until he could start climbing
the metal rungs.

 

He swung over the rampart to the roof and looked around. He didn’t see anyone
else on the roofs with him. He moved to where he could look down on the club
and take notes.

 

He spotted a lounger down the street from the club. The man leaned against a light
pole and read a paper. The man looked up and down the street more than he read the
news.

 

Rafferty spotted another man down the block, sitting on a chair provided by a café.
A cup of coffee rested by his hand.

 

There might be more, but those two seemed to be covering the front.

 

He pondered if he should take a look at the back of the club. There might be a hole
in the net there he could exploit to get in.

 

Rafferty checked again. He might be able to get to the roof of the club from the
neighboring buildings if there was a way to get to a roof from the street.

 

He decided to retreat from his post and check the other side of the street.

 

If he could get into the club from the top, he wouldn’t have to deal with the security
at the doors. He would need to make sure he didn’t alert the enemy, but he could walk
around without attracting attention as long as he didn’t do anything stupid.

 

He smiled. It had been a long time since he hadn’t done anything stupid.

 

He went to the fire escape and worked his way back down to the street. He exited the
alley away from the club. He watched the block as he crossed the street. He didn’t see
another lookout helping the coffee man.

 

He checked for another fire escape. He found a ladder over a set of trash cans. He
jumped up and grabbed the ladder. He swarmed up the ladder to the roof.

 

Rafferty jumped across the gaps to the roof of the club. He found a skylight to look
through as he considered his next step. The skylight let him look down at a hall
connecting the offices he could see.

 

He realized that Brown’s office was out of sight. He also didn’t know if there were
guards in front of the doors.

 

Rafferty decided he needed to know the hall was empty before he broke in. That
meant coming back at night and sneaking in.

 

He doubted Brown kept people on post to stop burglars.

 

He made his way back to the end of the buildings and descended to the street. He
looked around and made his way along away from the club. He needed more
information about the club before he did something stupid,

 

And he didn’t want to get caught breaking in. That would be the perfect excuse for
Brown to turn him in and prosecute him.

 

He had enough on his plate. He didn’t need to fight a burglary charge on whatever
else he might have done in the last few days. He couldn’t count on Fletcher to get
him out of trouble. The point of a secret organization was to be secret. Fletcher
wouldn’t jeopardize that for him.

 

The man might have him murdered in his cell to protect his new organization.

 

Rafferty walked down the street. He needed to get a look at the plans for Brown’s
club. Then he might be able to break in after hours. He needed to make sure no one
was on guard against someone like him doing the deed before he committed to the
thing.

 

He wondered what Brown would do if someone did pierce his inner sanctum. He
supposed an execution of such a villain would be in the works before you could fry
an egg.

 

Rafferty smiled. If he could force Brown to shoot the wrong man, he could maybe get
Hawley to press another charge and arrest the man.

 

The problem was Brown would try to buy his way out of a trial. If he didn’t have any
money, that might nip that problem in the bud. That made finding the books or the
accountant important as a way to close the case on Brown.

 

Then he could concentrate on the next man taking over the territory.

 

Rafferty nodded to himself when he saw the old building that housed the plans for
most of the buildings in London. Some of the buildings were so old, there weren’t any
plans filed.

 

The club should have something filed that he could use. He doubted it was so old
there weren’t any plans at all.

 

Rafferty spent the rest of the day poking around until he had the plans he needed. He
spread them out and went over them until he had the layout memorized in his mind.
He put the prints back when he was sure he knew where to go and what to do.

 

He left the office and looked around for somewhere to eat. Once he had a full
stomach, he would try to get a look at Brown’s office. Anything he learned from that
could be turned over to Fletcher to be sent back to the police.

 

Rafferty found a place he could settle into for a bit. He ordered a meal that should
carry him for the rest of the night, and tucked in.

 

He planned the next few hours in his mind as he ate. He needed to change into
his other persona, go back to the club, and break in. Then he needed to find anything
that could be used to locate where Brown was getting his money. Then he needed to
get out before there were complications.

 

And he had to avoid being taken alive at any cost. No one could tie his masked face
to Fletcher.

 

He finished his dinner and hoped it wasn’t his last meal before he stood and paid for
it. He walked out of the door.

[csyphrett]

secret service

1938-

13

Rafferty took the time to change into his masked identity. He secured some burglar
tools for use on the skylight. He drove his borrowed car to a spot a few blocks away
from the place so he could make a run for it if he was caught.

 

He checked to make sure he had plenty of bullets for the Webley. He didn’t want to
kill anybody, but he wasn’t going to let them take him without a fight. Brown would
love exposing him after some of the things he had done as a policeman trying to take
him down.

 

Rafferty climbed back up to the roof of the building at the end of the street. He
watched the street for a few minutes before crossing the gaps to the club’s roof. He
wasn’t sure but more men seemed to be watching the street.

 

More movement meant more security. As long as no one was guarding the boss’s
office, he should be okay. He went to the skylight and rapped on it. If anyone heard
him, they might step under the skylight so he could see them but they couldn’t see
him.

 

No one shined a light at the noise he had made. Now to start carrying out his plan.

He had added a bag to his arsenal. Inside were all the burglar tools he thought he
might need. He had learned some things from some of the people he had chased over
the years.

 

He dug a suction cup attached to a cutter out of the bag. He stuck the cup on and ran
the cutter in a circle around it. He yanked the glass out when he thought he had scored
enough with the cutter to slice through the material.

 

Rafferty checked the skylight for wires for an alarm. When he was sure there were
none, he reached in and unhooked the lockbar. He pulled the skylight out of the way.
He tied a rope to the exhaust pipe from the kitchen and dropped down to the floor
below. He looked around. Everything remained quiet.

 

He walked over to the office and listened at the door. He didn’t hear anything. He
pulled out his ring of keys and tried each one in the lock. Finally the lock turned and
the door swung open.

 

He stepped inside and closed the door. He locked it back to give himself some time
in case Brown returned unexpectedly. He looked around the room and asked himself
where he would put a safe.

 

Rafferty decided that one wall looked more suspicious than the others. It had a book
shelf full of books and a picture hanging in the middle of it. The picture was of some
dour grump named Reese.

 

He checked the shelf and noted that it refused to move. He tried to take Reese out of
his spot. The painting refused to move too. He stepped back and tried to think where
a switch would be in the shelf.

 

He started with feeling the front of the shelf. He worked his way from top to bottom.
He pulled a chair over to make sure there wasn’t a hook in the top of the thing. He
started checking the books next. He pulled them out and stacked them out of the way.
He found two books that were locked together. When he pulled them, they tilted and
the painting swung on a hinge to reveal a safe door.

 

Rafferty inspected the safe. A dial with a key combination. He could probably fool
the dial into opening up, but without the key, he was stuck unless he used something
else to pull the lock out.

 

He pulled out a doctor’s stethoscope from his bag. He put the earpieces in his ears
and the listening part on the safe next to the dial. He started turning the dial, listening
for the tumblers to click.

 

He examined the key hole. He didn’t have any keys to fit that. He did have a bottle
of acid he could pour into the lock. Brown would know what happened as soon as he
saw the destroyed lock.

 

Cold feet never helped anyone.

 

Rafferty shone a light into the keyhole. He used a magnifying glass and thought the
acid should be an okay way to cut the lock open.

 

Then all he had to do was make sure the dial worked on the tumblers and he could
open the door.

 

He worked the dial again until he heard three clicks through the scope. He didn’t try
to turn the handle. He knew that without a key, the handle would remain locked.

 

He took the glass bottle of acid from his bag and uncorked it. He poured some of it
into the lock and waited as it smoked against the metal. It wasn’t enough to cut
through the door, but he hoped it would cut the pins on the lock.

 

The handle sagged down and the safe door swung open. He pulled it out of the way
and inspected the contents.

 

He found some banded piles of money, some weapons, a scrapbook with all of the
Yard’s attempts depicted within. He winced at the coverage the last case had
produced. At the bottom of everything was a book full of names and numbers.

 

Rafferty took the book to the desk and started leafing through it. He didn’t recognize
the code, but knew he had the heart of Brown’s organization in his hands. If he turned
it over to Fletcher, what would happen?

 

He imagined a lot of arrests behind the scenes, some quiet resignations, maybe even
a bullet to the temple in some cases would result. It might be enough to wipe out a
section of London’s criminal operations with a simple delivery.

 

He might be able to blackmail some of those people if he could figure out who they
were. He would never have to chase criminals again. He would be the king of them.

Rafferty smiled under his mask. He might be breaking the law a little, but he would
never be the king of crooks. It just wasn’t something he wanted.

 

He closed the safe, and the picture. He needed to get the book to Fletcher. Then he
could take a step back and see how Brown reacted to being burgled by a masked man.

He put his tools in his bag. The book went in his coat pocket. He closed the office up
and walked toward the rope. All he had to do was climb up the rope and make his
escape over the roof tops.

 

Rafferty ran into his first problem here. As he came out of the office, one of the club
men appeared at the other end of the hall. He looked at the rope first, then the opened
door with a masked man standing on the threshold.

 

The alarm went up.

 

Rafferty retreated into the office and shut the door. He looked around. He needed to
get out of the office before they arrived in force and tried to take him.

 

He slid a chair under the door knob to keep Brown’s people out. He went to the

windows. If he could get out one of them, he could try to walk the ledge to another
room and get around security.

 

He tried the windows and found that they were nailed shut. He shook his head as he
pulled out his Webley. He had the solution for that.

 

He smashed out the glass and cleared the frame with the pistol. He looked outside.
Brown’s men on the street were looking up at him. They seemed surprised to see him
leaving. He climbed out on the ledge and started around the building. He had to hurry.
Once they figured out what he had done, the security would be at the other windows
shooting at him.

 

He needed to be off the ledge and running away before that happened.

 

Rafferty reached a drainpipe on the side of the club. He pulled on it. It refused to
come loose. He put away the Webley and started climbing. If he got to the roof, he
could cross to the fire escape on the building on the end, and use that to get to the
street.

 

He pulled himself over the rampart. He noted that no one had thought to climb the
rope and cut him off. He ran over and looked down into the hall. Men milled around
the office door. Someone was trying to kick the barrier down. He pulled the rope up
as quietly as he could. He unhooked it from the exhaust pipe and rolled it up between
hand and elbow as he walked to the edge of the club roof. He jumped over to the
adjacent building.

 

Rafferty put the rope away as he made his way to the end of the block. He doubted
he had gotten away scot free, but he had the accounting book. Brown might chase
him, or he might decide to let someone else have the territory while he retired on the
money he had hidden away.

 

Rafferty laughed softly. Brown was more likely to tear up the town looking for him
than retire. He was the king. No one could insult the king like he had. There had to
be blood and vengeance for that.

 

He reached the fire escape and used that to get down to the street. None of Brown’s
men had made it that far down the street. He imagined a fair amount of violence if
they reached the end of the block in time enough to see him heading for his auto.

Rafferty walked away from the block. He kept looking over his shoulder. He didn’t
want to get caught before he could hand the book to Fletcher.

 

He turned at the corner and headed toward his car. People on the street looked at him,
but they wouldn’t recognize him on the other side of the mask. It did publicize
Fletcher’s masked man concept.

 

If someone took a report, a man in Great War uniform and face mask would be all the
description they would get. And once he was at his car, he could pull off the mask and
change coats to get rid of the disguise until he needed it again.

 

It wasn’t perfect but it would do for what he needed.

 

Rafferty smiled when he saw his car. Once behind the wheel, the chances of his
escaping would dramatically increase.

 

He heard the squeal of tires behind him. He looked over his shoulder. He groaned at
the sight of cars coming around the corner at high speed.

Someone had seen him after all.

 

He decided that he should run if he wanted to reach his automobile. He pulled out his
pistol as he sprinted toward where his car was parked.

 

Bullets flew around him as he ran down the street. One knocked his cap off. He
caught it on the fly as he dodged behind the cover of a parked car.

 

Rafferty jammed the cap on his head. He took aim with the Webley. He fired out the
six bullets at the lead car. He aimed low so the bullets wouldn’t go into the passenger
compartment and kill someone.

 

He was rewarded with a tire blowing out. The lead car spun out, blocking the
road. He retreated, dumping the empty shells from the cylinder and placing them in
his pocket. He reloaded as he ran down the line of cars.

 

He ducked as more bullets filled the air. Glass dropped on his collar. Maybe he
should shoot one of them so they would stay back.

 

He spotted his car a few yards away. He could make it if he could give Brown’s
gunmen something to worry about.

 

Rafferty turned and took careful aim. He didn’t want to kill anybody. He could wound
them.

 

He fired the Webley as fast as he could. Men scattered from the bullets headed their
way. One went down, blood on his pants.

 

Rafferty dashed to his car and jumped behind the wheel. He dropped the pistol on the
car seat beside him as he cranked the engine. He drove away from the scene.

 

Time to talk to Fletcher.

[csyphrett]

secret service

1938-

14

Mick Brown looked at his men. He tried to keep the anger inside but he felt it burning
in his face. He had been embarrassed and robbed at his own club. The man
responsible had escaped to laugh at him.

 

Brown picked up the old revolver on his desk. He had lost the most important part of
his business to his masked enemy. He needed to get it back. That meant he needed
leverage against the vigilante.

 

The obvious connection was James Rafferty. The copper had been after him for a
long time. He had thought he had gotten rid of the pest with the frame he had set in
place with Corklin.

 

Now he had a masked man snooping in his business and Corklin was dead.

It didn’t take a mastermind to see that Rafferty had to be connected to both events.

 

How did he get his accounting book from the ex-copper? That was the question he
needed to answer.

 

He needed to answer it quick before the book could be decoded and the information
used against him.

 

Brown forced himself to calm down as he thought about his problem. He needed the
book back. He needed to get rid of Rafferty. He needed to stop this vigilante business
in its tracks.

 

He needed leverage on Rafferty.

 

“Rafferty still talks to people on the police force?,” Brown said as he stood. He had
a plan. It was risky, but it had to be done.

 

“Our man says he’s in thick with the Inspector Hawley,” said Tony Simpson. The
man didn’t see the connection.

 

“Find Hawley,” said Brown. “Start at the Yard first. We need leverage to get the book
back. We need someone we know Rafferty won’t sell out.”

 

“All right,” said Simpson. He put together the scheme in his mind in a second.
“Where do you want him taken?”

 

“Take him down to the place on the river,” said Brown. “We will have to get rid of
him no matter what else happens.”

 

“Right,” said Simpson.

 

Brown watched him leave. He hoped Simpson didn’t do anything to force the Yard
to look at him. He couldn’t afford any more trouble.

 

He grabbed the phone. He needed to make sure his backup books were still in place.
He couldn’t afford to lose both sets.

 

Two of his guys were still in the office. He needed to get them jobs. He decided that
Luke could watch the book keeper. No one could be allowed to grab him while they
were reeling from the break-in.

 

“Cantor?,” said Brown. “Someone stole my books. He might be coming down there
next. I’m sending Luke and some of the mob down there to keep an eye on you and
the master set of books. No one is allowed in, or out, until I call you. Good.”

 

Brown hung up the phone. He gestured at Luke. The minion nodded his head on his
nonexistent neck and left the room.

 

“Gilly, I want you to go down to the Rotten Unicorn and keep an eye out for
Rafferty,” said Brown. “I want to make sure I know where he is at all times. If he
calls someone, I want to know about it.”

 

“Sure thing, boss,” said Gilly. He trundled out on thick legs with a smile on his face.

 

There was a chance the mystery man wasn’t Rafferty. Brown thought that was a small
chance indeed. As soon as he got word that his mentor had been taken, he would
bring the books back immediately.

 

Things had to be brought back under control. He wasn’t going to allow some nutty
peeler take him on. Everyone would want to take him on if he allowed things to
continue.

 

Brown had silenced many a voice trying to stop his rise to the top of the criminal
pyramid. Rafferty was just one more who had to be put down so he couldn’t keep
meddling.

 

Once that was done, he would make sure to destroy anyone else trying to get in his
way.

 

He supposed he looked soft. He hadn’t really killed anyone in a while, nor really did
a big job to make his rivals say what happened. He mostly ran his business like a
business, and kept things rolling.

 

Maybe he should kill someone in a public way to let the people know he was still the
King of London.

 

While he was thinking about the future, he needed to get a safe in to replace the one
the masked man had destroyed.

 

Brown shook his head. He needed a better safe. He checked the rolodex in front of
him. He had a card for Louie’s Safes. He searched his memory and thought that Louie
had been a burglar before going into safe installation.

 

He called the number and waited for someone to come on the line. His patience was
rewarded with a sour voice of irritation. He smiled quietly.

 

“Louie?,” said Brown. “This is Mick Brown. Someone broke into my safe at the club.
I need it replaced.”

 

He listened for a moment.

 

“Just come to the club and look at the space,” said Brown. “Then I need you to put
the safe in as fast as you can.”

 

“No worries,” said Brown. “I know who broke in and I’m looking for him right now.”

 

Brown set a time and hung up. He had a few meetings to go to that he couldn’t have
at the club. It was his operations center, but it was also a conspicuous target for the
police to try to raid when they worked up the nerve.

 

The membership gave him cover, but he couldn’t abuse it. He didn’t need anyone
reporting what they had seen going on upstairs.

 

He couldn’t kill them all, and he didn’t have enough influence to make them all
go his way.

 

He pushed the button to summon Fred, the butler for the club. He pulled on his coat 
as the old man came into the office. The butler pulled himself to attention.

 

“I have to go out, Fred,” said Brown. “Louie’s Safes are coming by to replace the
safe. Make sure they don’t take anything when they leave, other than the wrecked
safe.”

 

“Yes, sir,” said Fred. “I will watch them like a hawk.”

 

“Some of the boys will be back from their jobs,” said Brown. “Tell them to go down
to the place on the river. They’ll know where to go.”

 

“Yes, sir,” said Fred. “I will have some of the staff help clean up this mess.”

 

“Wait on Louie,” said Brown. “He’ll probably create a bigger mess switching the
safes around.”

 

“Very good, sir,” said the butler. “Nothing will leave this office while you are gone.”

 

Brown nodded. He left the room and headed downstairs. He had a couple of guys on
permanent club watching. He ordered them to keep an eye on Louie when the safe
man got there.

 

He stepped outside the front door. He looked up and down the street. His car rolled
down the street to pick him up. He got in the back and gave Kevin, the driver, an
address.

 

He had a lot of work to do to keep his status as the king of the underworld.

 

He smiled to himself. When he was a kid breaking in, he just assumed that you could
push anyone around if you were tough enough. The years since the Great War had
taught him it was better to get leverage on a guy and keep it than killing the guy out
right.

 

Putting an enemy down had to be done as a lesson, but it was something to do as a
last resort. Killing someone meant having to deal with his replacement somewhere
down the road.

 

And sometimes the devil you knew was better than getting to know a new devil that
you didn’t have any means to deal with at all.

 

Kevin pulled to a stop outside a restaurant that seemed to have been painted by a
blind man. Dents in the bricks had been caused by bullets. Brown got out of the car.
He noted his security was already in place as he walked over to an outside table.

 

“Monsieur Brown,” said Henri Dumas. He was lean, with a puffy face, and cravat
around his neck. His hair still retained some of the red of his youth.

 

“Fox,” said Brown. He settled into a seat facing his opposite number.

 

“You are the only one who calls me that,” said Dumas. He smiled.

 

“I remember things,” said Brown. “Have you come to a decision?”

 

“I will buy the weapons,” said Dumas. “I have the money transferred to a local bank
from my own in France. I am afraid that I will need them sooner than I thought.”

 

“Wait here,” said Brown. “I will have one of my men take you to the pickup spot. As
soon as I have the money, all you have to do is load the weapons on a boat and sail
away.”

 

“This is the account number,” said Dumas. He handed over a paper. “The bank is in
the next street.”

 

“Pleasure doing business with you, Fox,” said Brown. He stood.

 

“I heard someone is taking action against you, Monsieur,” said Dumas.

 

“It wouldn’t be the first time,” said Brown. “All the same, test the weapons and move
them as soon as you can. You don’t want to be caught up in my troubles.”

 

“I understand,” said Dumas. He stood. “Bon chance.”

 

“You too, Fox,” said Brown. He turned and started for his car. He needed to get the
money from the bank, and then finish his round of meetings. He gestured for one of
his men to finish the rest of the deal with Dumas.

 

He still had four more deals to do, and those customers weren’t as smart as the Fox.
There was nothing he could do about that. He had learned over the years you could
only do so much with what you had.

 

He gave Kevin the next address on his list as he settled into the backseat of his car.
He wanted to get things done before one of his idiots decided that they could take
advantage of the masked man incident. He wasn’t about to lower his prices, or give
merchandise away for free.

 

He also didn’t want to make an example of a customer for the city to see. That drew
down the peelers, and he didn’t need that at the moment.

 

Once he had his talk with Rafferty, then he could try to smooth things over with
the people he worked with in the other syndicates. He didn’t want to lose business
but was aware that was a possible outcome to having someone invade your sanctum
and making you look like an idiot.

 

It wouldn’t be the first time he had quelled a rebellion and put down all challengers
to keep his part of the pie.

 

It wouldn’t be the last as far as he could see.

 

Everyone wanted to be the King.

 

[csyphrett]

I'm still working on this, but I have started another project at Dev Art

CES

 

[csyphrett]

Loaded these stories up:

The Killer: A cannibal ex-agent takes on his old comrades that turned him in. 

A Gift From Earth: A supply ship has to deal with large beasts to drop their cargo for a colony at the edge of known space.

Stalking the Night: Kolchak the Night Stalker meets one of the One Thirteen 

The Ring: When Jimmy McNulty is asked to return a ring to the dead woman's next of kin, he didn't think he would end up in a shootout in a hospital.

The Destruction of Riordiana : The city of Riordiana is destroyed and its citizens are forced to set up a new home in the ocean

A Parole from Hell: After the destruction of Riordiana, the administrator of the afterlife decides to send a dead man to deal with the mass murderers trying to wreck the living. 

Seven Brothers: The Stalking Light brothers are sent to the Underworld until someone can reverse the spell holding their bodies as statues. The Administrator is not happy about this arrangement.

Third Person Murder Mystery: Geoff Cantrell visits the Underworld when he dies. Poisoned, he tries to figure things out while trying to romance his girlfriend in the Underworld.

The Machinist Part One: Zachariah Eight Arms flees Riordiana and tries to start a new life with his daughter and an orphan

The Machinist Part Two: Zachariah spots an old menace in his new home and chases it down.

CES

  

 

[csyphrett]

The Queen's Knight is up at Dev Art

CES