Cloud Club has been destroyed, and the building has been damaged down to its foundations.”
Nimrod gasped. “Where are we?”
“The Cloud Club is my domain,” she said. “It is wherever and whenever I need it to be.”
Nimrod watched the city below, now understanding the dust and faded glamor of the room he had visited before he had been black-bagged and dragged to Washington.
Evelyn met Nimrod’s eye in the reflection. “But our fate lies elsewhere.”
Nimrod swung around from the window, brandishing the gun. He braced himself, with no clue what would happen when he pulled the trigger.
Evelyn smiled, and Nimrod took aim, and everything went blue and bright.
FORTY-EIGHT
Mr Grieves led Rad, Jennifer, and the small group of agents through the police cordon on Lexington Avenue with barely a pause, only Jennifer sparking any interest from cops and onlookers alike.
“Doesn’t look like there’s a Cloud Club for us to visit anymore,” said Grieves, pointing to the broken cap of the Chrysler Building.
The group came to a halt. It was carnage as they got closer, and Rad couldn’t even tell whether they were standing on the street or the sidewalk. Rubble the size of cars formed a maze around them, the air thick with dust and smoke. There were fires, too; Rad could feel the heat on his face from smoking piles of stone and metal, some lit from within by glowing red and orange.
“Come on,” said Rad. “Let’s find out what happened.”
They continued, the smoke and dust getting thicker the closer they got.
“Here!” Jennifer was ahead, apparently impervious to the acrid tang in the air. Rad squinted, and saw her golden face bobbing as she waved back at the group.
The rubble changed suddenly, and Rad realized they were on the other side of the building. Ahead, smoke rose from the shattered shell of Grand Central. Here there was stone and dull metal but glass and steel too, brilliant and electric, untarnished from its fall from the crown of the building – and a twisted framework, black and burnt, of something else.
Rad swore and leapt over the nearest pile of rubble. His coat sliced open as the tail caught on an Art Deco sliver from the roof of the building.
“What is it?” Grieves called from close behind.
Rad reached Jennifer just as she pulled a hulking panel to the side, revealing a large box-like structure with a conical front, the nose crushed. Rad realized with a start it was the front of the Nimrod, flight deck and all, separated and thrown from the primary crash site.
Rad and Jennifer paused, looking at each other. Then Rad turned back to the wreckage. “Carson?”
They began digging into the debris, pulling, bending the remains of the downed airship aside as they fought to get into the detached flight deck. Finally an open hatchway was cleared. Jennifer didn’t pause as she stepped in, Rad following her into the dark interior.
The flight deck was unrecognizable. It was merely a space, bent metal walls enclosing an obstacle course of twisted metal, wires, and shards of stone, steel and glass.
“Here!” Jennifer called from a few steps ahead, and she stepped back so the others could see. Rad swore again and rushed forward to help.
Under a cradle of riveted metal frames was a figure, kneeling on the floor, his body hunched over, protecting something. Jennifer yanked the heaviest pieces of debris away, and the figure rose up on its knees.
“Kane!” Rad pulled at his shoulder, and the figure uncurled. The Skyguard’s suit was battered and scraped, but it was intact.
The figure turned its head and Rad paused, unsure. The figure shook its head, and when it spoke it was with a different voice.
“Kane is safe, Mr Bradley. I am looking after him.”
Rad’s eyes went wide. “Byron?” But his train of thought was interrupted by coughing from the floor, long and labored, followed by a wheezy intake of breath.
“My dear detective, I am so very glad you made it.”
“Carson!” said Rad. He reached forward, then stopped, wondering whether he should touch him.
Captain Carson was on the floor, his great white beard matted with blood that looked too bright, too arterial. He smiled and the beard moved; then he coughed again and put a hand to his chest. His eye patch had been torn off, and set into the socket Rad saw what looked like a miniature camera lens.
The Captain closed his eyes and sighed, and in desperation Rad looked at Byron.
“What the hell happened?”
The Captain answered from the floor, his eye still closed, his voice