All three rooms were empty. There were dusty beds and photos covered with cobwebs. The papers on one sun-lit desk were yellow and faded. Some of the exes checked closets and raised clouds in the air as they batted at the hanging clothes.
The next three rooms were the same. And the next three. And the last six.
So were all the rooms on the third floor.
The top two floors were deserted. They had been for months by the look of them. Maybe years.
“What,” said the dead lieutenant, “the fuck?”
On the second floor they found a bakers dozen of soldiers trying to sleep in warm rooms with the blinds drawn against the brilliant day. They died, groggy and unarmed, before most of them realized what was going on. In the carnage, the dead lieutenant forgot the top floors.
* * *
Smith cranked open the blinds in his office. Freedom was confident he’d have all the heroes in custody within the hour, but Smith wasn’t so sure. Stealth had already escaped once, and he knew Danielle was a lot cleverer than anyone gave her credit for. She didn’t need the battlesuit to be dangerous. Classic mistake, to assume your opponent’s helpless because they don’t have a weapon.
And he had no idea what they were going to do with St. George. The reinforced cells they’d built in case some of the super soldiers got out of line wouldn’t be enough. Hopefully the hero wouldn’t be too resistant to what Smith had to say and they’d all be on the same side again soon.
Smith opened the other set of blinds and the last shadows became distinct shapes.
“Well,” he said. He took a breath and collected his thoughts. “This is a surprise.”
“It is important that I speak with you,” said Stealth. She brushed her cloak back. Without her weapons and harnesses, she was just a shapely outline.
“Okay,” he said. He sat down and set his hands on the desk. “Talk.”
“Move your hands away from the phone.”
He slid his palms over to the desk lamp. “Go ahead.”
“Project Krypton is facing an imminent attack from within. The neural stimulator units do not work, and in fact have never worked. The ex-soldiers are being controlled by an individual named Rodney Casares, also known as Peasy.”
Smith’s brow furrowed. “The superhuman who attacked you last year in Los Angeles,” he said. “I thought he was dead.”
“His body was destroyed, but it appears his ability to project his consciousness into the undead has allowed him to survive. He is here and he has close to a thousand exes inside your fence line to work with. You must instruct the Army to place the base on high alert and begin the systematic destruction of all ex-soldiers.”
Smith’s fingers drummed the desktop. “My first instinct,” he said, “would be to think you’re trying to cover for leaving Colonel Shelly in a hospital bed.”
“Colonel Shelly is dead,” said Stealth. “Doctor Sorensen has been lying to you.”
Smith looked confused for a moment, but then his practiced smile appeared. “Go on, please,” he said.
“It would appear the doctor is in league with Peasy, and has known all along the Nest units do not work. He also may have manipulated several events here at Krypton to suit his purposes.”
The agent shook his head. “Sorensen has trouble manipulating silverware. He’s a brilliant man, don’t get me wrong, but he’s not pulling any strings behind the curtain.” He tilted his head. “That’s a mixed metaphor, isn’t it?”
She heard the sound of metal on metal in the hall and turned. Harrison, Taylor, and Polk burst into the office, rifles up. Taylor and Polk kept her covered while the staff sergeant moved to Smith. “Are you okay, sir?”
“Fine, thank you, sergeant,” he stood up and brushed a few wrinkles from his suit. “Excellent response time.”
“Thank you, sir.”
He looked at Stealth and gestured to the desk. “The panic button’s in the base of the lamp, if you were wondering.”
“You are making a mistake,” she said.
Smith looked back at Harrison. “Can you make sure Captain Freedom knows you caught her? And that she confessed to the attack in front of you?”
“Of course, sir.”
“I have done no such thing,” said Stealth.
Smith’s eyes went up and down her body. “Would you agree we may need to replace all the military police with super-soldiers for now? She seemed to escape with very little effort last time, didn’t she?”
Harrison gave a sharp nod. “My squad can take over immediately, sir.”
“Then take your prisoner into custody, sergeant.”
“Agent Smith—”
“Ma’am, I suggest you say nothing else until you are read your rights,” said Harrison.
“I will not—”
Taylor grabbed her upper arm and pressed his Bravo against her head. “Give me an excuse, cocktease,” he said. “Just give me one fucking reason to spray your stupid cunt brains across the wall.”
They heard the echo of shouting outside and all the eyes in the room flitted to the window. Less than a second. It took Smith and Harrison a few moments to understand what happened next. They saw it all, but their minds needed time to break the blur down into actual movements.
One moment Stealth was a prisoner at gunpoint. They looked back from the window and her free hand was up and Taylor’s rifle was aimed over her shoulder at the wall. Her fingers stabbed out and drove four strikes into the soldier’s throat one after another. On the last one her hand twisted over to grab the top of his head and yank it down as she leaped up. Her knee smashed into his face and she spun in mid-air, driving her heel into his chest.
Taylor crashed into Polk and collapsed to the floor. Everyone knew the soldier wouldn’t be getting up anytime soon.
Then they realized, in that instant of seeing and understanding, Stealth had crossed the five yards separating the door from the desk.
She landed with one foot on Harrison’s rifle and pinned it to the desk. She slammed the edge of her palm into his throat. He staggered back and she grabbed Smith’s tie with her other hand. She dragged the smiling man forward.
“Stealth!” he snapped, holding up his hands. “You don’t want to hurt me, do you?”
The fist froze inches from his head. It trembled for a moment, as if she was trying to force it through the air.
“Do you?” repeated Smith. He leveled his eyes at her. He didn’t blink.
“No,” she said. She opened the fist and let her arm drop to her side. “I do not.”
Smith brought his arms down. He adjusted his tie and smiled his broad, fake smile. “Good.”
Chapter 26 - Influence Peddler
THEN
There’s no such thing as a smart criminal. It’s a complete myth. You know why? Because if there was such a thing, you’d never know about it. Criminals people hear about get caught. Every bank robbery or liquor store hold-up, those were all morons. And think about it—someone would have to be a complete idiot to put on an eye-catching costume and draw attention to himself and what he can do.
No, the smart ones would go out of their way not to be seen or heard. They’d hide in plain sight. They’d be that person barely anyone acknowledges is in the room. The real supervillains wear business suits and paisley ties with full-Windsor knots.
When we first got the news some of the superheroes were alive in Los Angeles—well, superheroes or Bruce Springsteen, take your pick—I don’t think the airman who brought the news even saw me. Freedom didn’t. He doesn’t register half the civilians he meets. He and Shelly had been talking with a few of the officers for five minutes before the colonel and I locked eyes. It always made him angry when he forgot I was there.
Especially when I made him forget.