He hauled himself to his feet and moved, reeling more than walking, toward the men. They ignored him moving purposefully toward the gaping wound in the side of the building, and then, as if possessed of some kind of divine power, took turns stepping out into empty space.
Dodge approached the same point with a good deal more caution, but as he eased out into space, he saw the ladder they had used, still propped against the side of the building, and caught just a glimpse of the two masked men closing themselves inside the back of a waiting Ford panel delivery truck. Without really knowing what he was going to do next, he eased his right foot out onto the top rung and then swung himself onto the ladder.
The truck’s engine roared as it pulled away, and by the time he reached the debris-littered sidewalk, it was racing down the street, heading south. Dodge could just make out a round red shape painted on its back door, the only distinguishable feature on its otherwise uniform black exterior. It’s a tomato, he thought.
“Where’s Rodney?” The voice, a mixture of confusion and near-hysteria came from just behind him, and he half-turned to see the Lafayette’s assistant stepping off the ladder. Her face and hair were liberally coated in plaster dust, making her look like a refugee from the court of Louis XIV, and her hat sat askew on her head, but she seemed otherwise unhurt.
Dodge gaped at her for a moment and then pointed at the receding truck. “They took him.”
Above them, Hurricane ventured out of the enormous wound in the building and began descending as well, but when he was halfway down, he began listing to one side. Before Dodge could move to steady the ladder, it leaned sideways and crashed to ground. So did Hurricane. The big man let loose an oath that would have made even Dodge blush under any other circumstances, and struggled to his hands and knees.
“Dodge! Damn it, everything’s spinning. What happened? Where’s the Doc?” It was perhaps a measure of his concern that Hurley did not employ his favorite nickname—‘Newton’—for the quirky scientist.
“Tomato truck.” Dodge’s head felt thick, and he wondered if he was making any sense.
“Tomato truck?” The woman — Nora, Dodge remembered, that was her name — seemed likewise unable to make sense of his statement. “Why would they leave in a—”
Hurricane hauled himself erect, but was still clearly having trouble staying that way. “Well, go after them!”
“How?”
The big man pointed to the row of automobiles parked across the street. One of them stood out from the rest; a sleek fire-engine-red 1936 Auburn 851 Boattail Speedster that was Hurley’s pride and joy. “You’ll have to drive. I’m still seeing double.”
“Drive?”
“You do know how to drive, don’t you?” Nora asked.
Dodge nodded slowly.
She tugged at his arm. “Well then, let’s go.”
The sports car was designed to seat two people comfortably — two average sized people. Hurricane Hurley usually rode alone with the top down, his massive frame leaving only a little bit of room for a passenger. This time, he simply slumped into the seat on the passenger’s side, leaving Dodge to squeeze in behind the steering wheel.
“Where am I supposed to sit?” Nora inquired, daring either man to tell her to stay behind.
Under normal circumstances, both men probably would have done exactly that, but Dodge’s bell was still ringing and it was all he could do to focus on the task at hand. “Well, you can’t sit in my lap,” he told her.
Her lips turned down in a pout, then with one hand pressing her skirt down, she scooted her rear end onto the door panel and with considerably less gracefulness than she probably intended, dropped into Hurricane’s lap. The move caught the big man by surprise and he gave a little “oomph” as she landed on something tender. The sound was repeated as she awkwardly folded her legs to get them into the car and down into the crowded floor well.
Dodge watched her contortions in disbelief for a moment, then decided he could wait no longer. He activated the starter and coaxed the Speedster’s 150 horsepower engine to life. Revving the engine, he let out the clutch, and the sports car exploded out of its parking spot.
Chapter 2—Rotten Tomatoes
Initially, Dodge couldn’t see the panel truck, but it seemed likely that the kidnappers would continue in the same direction and remain on the main thoroughfares, at least until they drew near to whatever their final destination might be.
The cool breeze blowing across his face helped clear his head and soon the unanswered questions began to bubble to the surface. “Why dynamite?” he asked, inclining his head toward Hurley. “It’s not the subtlest of methods.”
“Anarchists.” This opinion did not come from Hurley, who was still trying to shake off the effects of the blast, but instead from Nora. “They like to blow things up. Cause mayhem. It’s a good way to distract attention from their real motive.”
“Which was to grab the Doc.”
“No offense, but I doubt your friend rates this kind of attention from the anarchists.”
“Then why…you think they were after Lafayette? Why on earth would they care about him?”
“Rodney gets death threats all the time from crazy people who don’t like the way he presents their cause in his stories. Why, just last month, he did a story where Detective Jack Bixbee tussled with a gang of Fennian’s in Hell’s Kitchen. You wouldn’t believe the letters we got after that one. Someone even sent us a dead rat.” She shuddered at the memory.
Dodge’s forehead creased. “I never get death threats.”
Hurley made a choking noise. Evidently he was feeling better as well.
“You know what I mean,” Dodge countered, his cheeks suddenly feeling hot with embarrassment. “But still, dynamite? They could just as easily have killed us all.”
“I don’t think so. If they’d wanted to do that, they would have used a lot more’n just one stick, and they’d’ve put it in a sack full of washers or nails. One stick in a big room like that? I’d say they just wanted to knock us all senseless…Scratch that, they probably wanted to knock me senseless.”
“You?” Nora retorted. “How could they have even known you were in that room?”
“No offense, miss, but I’m afraid I have to agree with Dodge. This was about grabbing Doc Newton, and they know that I’m watching out for him.”
Nora rolled her eyes. “Why on earth would they want him?”
“Because he just happens to be one of the smartest men in the country.” Dodge didn’t want to elaborate, but he knew that answer would only further stoke the woman’s curiosity. He quickly changed the subject. “Does anyone see them?”
Hurricane squeezed his eyes shut, and then opened them, straining to see into the distance. Under normal circumstances, Hurley had the eyes of an eagle, but Dodge knew how the explosion had affected him, and could only imagine what it had done to Hurley’s senses. The big man squinted, staring straight ahead, then abruptly looked skyward. “Well that’s not something you see every day.”
Dodge took his eyes off the road only long enough to glance up. In that brief instant he saw a pair of aircraft, moving in the same direction and just a little bit faster than the Speedster. The two flying machines were relatively low to the ground, only a little higher than most of the rooftops, and despite the fact that his gaze lingered on them for only a moment or two, he was able to make out several key details. The aircraft had long tapering fuselages with swallowtail rudder assemblies in the rear, just like most airplanes, but had no wings. Instead, there was a faintly transparent disk above the body, and when Dodge blinked, he saw that the disk was actually a spinning assembly of long fan-like blades.