In Hero Years... I'm Dead Delux Edition

  “You can give the letter to me. I’ll see that Sinisterion gets it.” I smiled. “In fact, I think a note from Puma would just make his day.”

  Diana helped me get the duffle bag inside the vault, then we sealed it and turned the vacuum pump on. The bag contracted, but not by much. I gave her a receipt and wired the money to her account. The devastated young woman walked away very happy.

  I returned from the elevator to find Selene standing in the workroom doorway. “That was very nice of you.”

  I shrugged. “I’ll repay the money out of my own funds.”

  “No need, it’s a legitimate expense.”

  “Vicki told you?”

  “She’s pretty freaked out.” She leaned against the doorjamb. “You okay?”

  “He’s been my father forever, so I’ve had time to deal with it.”

  Selene walked toward me. “That’s not what freaked her out. It’s what she read, and the things you said to each other. Khirgizstan?”

  “Just wanted to make sure that was him. Means it was someone else in Beirut. The two had kind of melded in my mind.”

  “From what she said, and what Grant said… Twenty years…” She caressed my cheek. “I saw scars, but twenty years?”

  I forced myself to smile. “There’s a lot they can do to a person. Sometimes it leaves marks. Sometimes it doesn’t. Some things you get used to, some you don’t. Waterboarding. No marks. I hated it until someone told me the key to surviving: Baywatch fantasies. You knew someone was going to save you–though they never quite looked like the actresses.”

  “You don’t have to make light of it.”

  “Yeah, actually I do. Torture is easy to intellectualize. We all know it’s horrible, in our minds anyway, but until you know it in your gut, you’re still able to rationalize its use. You tell yourself that a terrorist is an animal, so you’re justified in treating him like an animal–even though you’d never treat an animal that way.

  “But you want to know what the worst torture is? It’s the one that leaves no marks, and doesn’t treat you like an animal. It preys on your humanity. Unless you’re a stone-cold sociopath, it’ll break you.”

  Her eyes grew distant. “What do they do?”

  “They beat the crap out of you, then stuff you into a small box with another person. He can’t help but care for you. If he does, he gets rations. If he doesn’t, he starves. As much as he wants nothing to do with you, he has to help you for his own survival. And then they take him out and do the same thing all over again. First you’re a child, then you’re the parent.

  “From then on, your buddy is a hostage.” I looked at her. “There were times when I could have escaped, but my buddy would have suffered. The time I cut that Picasso? My buddy paid because I betrayed him. When your buddy’s being tortured, you’ll be the one to sing. You’ll tell them things they could never beaten out of you.”

  “A buddy betrayed you, didn’t he? That’s why trust is hard?”

  I didn’t need to reply.

  Selene glanced down. “They let you go because of your father?”

  “I’d been used as a brake on him. When he got out of the game, there had no more use for me.”

  “And your buddy?”

  “Buddies.” I shrugged. “Couple of them died, one escaped. That was in Khirgizstan. It hurt. Had no way to track the others.”

  She shook her head. “I can’t imagine.”

  “Be thankful.” I looked up and a rerun of O’Lily had begun, featuring my father. “I gotta get a cut-off switch for that.”

  “Commercial zone, never happen.” She studied my father for a moment, then smiled. “Now I understand all the different identities. You didn’t want him to find you.”

  “He never invited me to Father-and-son banquets anyway, so no great loss.”

  “But you were willing to take that risk for me?”

  “I would have told you.”

  “It’s okay.” She slipped her arms around my neck. “You’re tired, and I know a place where we can turn the Murdoch off. I don’t think you’ll want to be sleeping alone.”

  “No sense in both of us losing sleep.”

  She kissed me none too gently. “I’ll make sure that doesn’t happen.”

  Chapter Twenty-three

  In the two weeks leading up to the opening of Castigan’s shop, things fell into a solid routine. Diana turned out to be a tireless worker, taking on jobs I’d thought to reserve for myself. Not only was she capable and eager, but she liked taking on tasks that gave me time to work on repairing Puma’s equipment.

  I didn’t give her any set work hours, but I did insist she hit Grant’s gym and get Terry teaching her some martial arts. Diana took to it quickly and did well. She explained that Puma had taught her some self-defense when she was young. They’d even played “games” which required her to become familiar with his Cat’s-claws and other gear. He swore her to secrecy, and she was good to her word.

  Within the week Vicki arrived to look Diana over. They regarded each other suspiciously. Vicki had eased up a little–I wasn’t the devil incarnate, but probably was a demon. Diana saw me as a savior. Vicki wondered about this girl I’d “adopted,” and it looked as if they weren’t going to get along at all.

  Then Vicki showed up at one of Terry’s classes. Diana proved an even match for her. As I’d noted before, Diana was stronger than she looked, so despite being smaller than Vicki, she dropped her a couple of times.

  Diana then proceeded to drop me, too, which allowed the girls to bond.

  Routine can be really good. It got me into the Castigan role. I also enjoyed working on Puma’s gear. My father taught me how to kill a hero, but Puma taught me how to be a hero. In making sure everything worked, from the Cat-hook and Catapult system, to his rebreather and the Cat’s-eyes nightvision goggles, I repaid, in part, the debt I owed him.

  I supervised the store’s final outfitting and arrangement. We had no windows, just a door with a single frosted-glass panel and bars to protect it. The only clue as to what the office was lurked on a brass plate at the panel’s lower right corner. It read, “Castigan. By Appointment Only.”

  Selene and I routinely went dancing at least one night a week and reverted to sending each other puzzles. We usually saw each other three nights in the week, and talked every day–often in person. She approved of how the shop was shaping up, and began to refer customers.

  As comforting as routine can be, it can make one too comfortable. I forced myself to break routine by randomly leaving the shop. I’d wander for a couple hours and come back with new eyes.

  I always found interesting things on my sojourns. I saw a great deal and even solved a few puzzles. It really didn’t do to get too comfortable. Complacency can kill you, especially if you’re a hero.

  And there was one hero who dearly needed to learn that lesson.

  Kim Coughlin’s skeleton nearly jumped clear of his body when he flicked the lights on. Golden Guardian, all suited up, sat on my left. He’d kicked back in a chair, his helmet off and an unlit Cohiba tucked into the corner of his mouth. Graviton sat on my right, closing a book. Despite the darkness, he’d been reading. What little infra-vision he had left let him read the heat coming up off black ink.

  I sat centered against the work-bench. “We decided to wait for you inside.”

  The abandoned CRAWL station made for a great lair. Two stories tall, white tiles, a working bathroom and access to electricity the city would never miss, it was prime superhero real estate. Kim had cut his own entrance through the foundation of the apartment house above and had taking the precaution of blocking the other entrances.

  He’d done a good job, which is why I’d needed help to get in.

  Kim glanced at the scattered barricade by the original entrance. “How did you…”

  Terry pressed the tip of the cigar to the laser projector in the palm of his glove. “Nice welding job, kid. You’ll do it better next time.”

  Kim descended. A
good looking kid despite his having gone pale, he took the steps carefully. “Is it really you?”

  I did the honors. “Golden Guardian. Graviton. This is Kid Coyote.”

  Grant smiled easily. “Pleased to meet you.”

  “Me, too, kid.”

  Kim raised an eyebrow. “And you’d be…”

  “I’m here to collect the rent.” I looked around. “Of all my lairs, I liked this one the best.”

  His jaw dropped. “What? You? I mean…”

  I held up both hands. “Take it easy, Kim. Breathe. Sit down.”

  “You even know who I am.” The young man dropped his gym-bag at the base of the steps, then sat. He combed brown hair back nervously, his blue-eyed gaze flicking from Graviton to Golden Guardian and back.

  “Oh my God.” He shook his head. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t, you know… I mean, I can fix everything.”

  “Again, take it easy. We’re not here to bust your balls.” I stood and smiled, pointing toward the armory cabinet, just past the rocket bike. “The supply is a little depleted, isn’t it?”

  “I’ve been making some of my own stuff, but I haven’t had a chance to replace the motor on the lathe. It burned out a month ago, but I’ll fix it.”

  Terry perked up. “You were actually turning metal on that old Hutchinson? A new Vecktech Meson-lathe 440 would do you so much better.”

  “I’m saving up. Blue and I–Blue Ninja, I mean–are gonna team up some more.” Kim shook his head. “I can’t believe this. Is that really Graviton? He’s back from the other dimension? Did he win the war?”

  Grant nodded confidently. “Almost finished. I’m doing a favor.”

  Kid Coyote looked at me. “Why are you here?”

  I shrugged. “Why Kid Coyote?”

  He glanced down at his hands. “I grew up wanting to be a hero. There are schools, you know, but my family didn’t have money. I didn’t have grades either, but I knew I could be one. And, well, I wanted a Green Avenger franchise, but I couldn’t afford it; and all the other names were taken. I mean, no offense, but no one remembered you. I’d been to the Hall of Fame dozens of times and couldn’t find any substantial mention of you. So, I thought, maybe I’d just become Kid Coyote and if anyone minded, I’d just change. No one complained.”

  My eyes narrowed. “If no one remembered me, how did you know enough to choose that name?”

  Kim smiled. “I only know of you from my dad. There was a traffic accident. Drunk driver. My mom was hurt bad, and this guy tried to steal her purse. And you showed up and saved my folks.

  “My father used to tell me stories about you. And I wanted to be a hero and I went to him and asked about you. Turns out he had a big scrap book and boxes of clippings. He’d even started to write a book. He thought your disappearance was the mystery of the century. He couldn’t understand how anyone could forget you.”

  Kim stood, opening his arms. “I took his research and learned everything I could. I mapped out everywhere you appeared and tried to triangulate on your location. Didn’t work. Then I had a programming class and applied some Chaos theory to the problem. Figured out you had several bases.”

  Terry blew a smoke ring. “You devil. So this was your C4 base?”

  “No, this was the poker game base.”

  Kid Coyote smiled. “He had at least two dummies. There’s that guy who signs stuff, claiming to be you. He knew about the headquarters in that shipping container buried in the landfill across the river. And there was one in an abandoned warehouse on the Lower East Side. It had access to the Parkway for the Chaser, right?”

  “When did they make the warehouses over into condos?”

  “Twelve years ago. I bought some odd stuff off one of the construction workers. Looks like the Chartreuse Kobold might have used it after you.”

  “It was compromised, which is why I abandoned it.” I looked back at Terry. “This one was nice because it had multiple ways in and out.”

  “That’s what I figured.” Kim’s eyes focused distantly. “I researched underground locations and overlaid the map of your exploits. Filtered for time in three-month increments and worked backward from the point of your disappearance. Then I went exploring–worked for the CRAWL authority for a year before I hit an access point. I found it and, like I said, I hoped you wouldn’t mind. In fact… “

  He trotted over toward the north side track and jumped down. He yanked the canvas cover from the Chaser. “I’ve been working on it. I did the rocket bike first, then this. I hope that’s okay.”

  When we’d first gotten into the lair, I wanted to peek under the shroud. I held myself back. I expected the Chaser to be nothing but rust and rat-gnawed rubber. I mean, I knew I was older and busted up; I just didn’t want to think it was, too. I didn’t want that memory ruined.

  It wasn’t.

  Kim had worked hard. The Chaser had been built over the chassis of a turn of the century muscle car–the cars that looked tough until they starved for lack of gas. Light brown with darker brown accents and a Coyote in silver on the hood and doors, the car had reinforced ram bumpers, well-concealed armor plating, run-flat tires and enough on-board gadgetry to make it through a James Bond Film Festival.

  He lovingly ran a hand over the hood. “I’ve refurbed the engine. I replaced the tires, checked everything else out. Redid the interior earlier this year. About the only thing I haven’t done is turn it over. The engine interlock isn’t something I want to mess with.”

  Grant moved to the edge of the pit. “Imagine what Castigan could get for this?”

  “Wouldn’t fit in the show room.”

  Kim looked at me, stricken. “You’d sell this?”

  “This side of needing a heart and lung transplant, nope.” I gave him a reassuring smile. “We came for two reasons. One, there is something here we’re going to sell. That’s not as important as the other reason, though.”

  Grant offered him a hand and pulled him onto the CRAWL platform. “What is it you want?”

  I clasped my hands at the small of my back. “You’re Kim Coughlin. You share an apartment up there with Phil Harvey, and the both of you work for your cousin, Dominic Chello, at his garage, Chello & Son. His father’s retired to Boca. Phil and Dom believe the reason you get so beat up and are out late is because you make money fighting in illegal cage fights. You even entered one and invited them as guests to prove it.”

  He stared at me blankly. “I can’t figure out how you learned who I am.”

  “I cheated. Remember, I knew this place was here. I cross correlated Kid Coyote’s exploits, narrowing down locations. I took video of you and created a composite image, then used a security database to match your face to images found in hundreds of security cameras in this area. Even though you’ve taken precautions, there’s simply too much data available to allow you to hide.”

  I held a hand up. “More importantly, Phil and Dominic know you’re Kid Coyote.”

  “What?” He shook his head. “Impossible. There’s no way.”

  “They’re not stupid. Phil tried to put money down on you in a fight and had a bookie say no such person existed. Then you got beat up and a news story about Kid Coyote flashes. It was the one where you broke your ribs. The two of them put it together and have been protecting you ever since.”

  Terry tapped the ash from his cigar. “Problem is that they don’t tell the same story twice, kid. They think they’re doing you a favor.”

  Kim nodded, slowly comprehending. “And someday they’re going to make a slip. They’ll get hurt. I have to… What am I going to do?”

  Terry nodded to me. “We worked out a plan. Tomorrow Vecktech is going to buy the Chello & Son garage. They’re going to turn it into a refueling station for a new generation of hydrogen fuel-cell vehicles. A pilot program. Dominic and Phil are going to go away for training. You’ll probably want to go out with them this evening. You won’t see them for a long time after this.”

  Kim exhaled slowly. “What about my job? I
mean, the hero money helps, but it’s not enough to get by on.”

  I smiled. “We’re going to be working on that, but for now, given what you’ve done with the Chaser, I have an assignment for you. There’s a car in a barn upstate, just past East Carcosa. We’ll get you a map. Go up there with a car carrier, bring it back. Get Blue to help you. If he’s not available, I have two other discrete individuals for the job.”

  He nodded.

  “You ever hear of the Crusher?”

  Kim’s eyes grew wide. “You’re kidding. Puma’s car?”

  Even Grant looked surprised.

  I smiled.

  “Next to the Haunted Hummer, the most famous hero car there is.” Kim blinked disbelieving. “I mean, that’s a national treasure.”

  “You’ll have to fix it up right. I suspect it will end up in the Hall.”

  “I will. I will.” He looked at me. “Why are you doing this?”

  “Everybody’s got dreams. Some folks outgrow them. Others have them taken away.” I winked. “Sometime helping someone live a dream is the right thing to do.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Besides, if we’d just gotten what we came for, you’d have noticed. A little detective work, and you’d have figured out some things I’d rather not have discovered.”

  “Okay.” He crossed toward the armory and the armoire. “I think there’s still one uniform I haven’t modified.”

  “Not here for that.” I pointed to a dark circle amid the tiles, about shoulder height. “That’s what we want.”

  “A hole in the wall?”

  Terry walked over to it, lit up his laser, and began to carve through the tile and reinforced concrete. “How deep do I go?”

  Grant, blushing, held up his right arm. “To the elbow. Eighteen inches.”

  “I’m going for two feet.” Terry tossed his cigar and snapped his faceplate down. “You were pissed.”

  I looked at Kim. “He had a full house, Aces over Jacks. I had two pair.”

  “But that doesn’t…”