quiet but strong enough. “I decided we should follow you. The Empire State was collapsing, and while I had utmost faith in your abilities, I felt it would be something of a waste if you were to encounter unforeseen circumstances only to have myself and Byron trapped, unable to provide any assistance.”
Carson coughed, and Rad’s eyes were drawn to the blood that covered his body. He turned back to Byron. “How badly is he hurt?”
“I fear I am unable to answer, sir.” Rad winced as the voice that didn’t belong to Kane came from somewhere inside the suit. “I believe I shielded him from the worst, but there was some violence to our collision with the building.”
“You took the top right off it,” said Jennifer. “It’s a scene out there, that’s for sure.”
“What happened?” asked Rad.
“We were Shanghaied, my dear detective,” said Carson from the floor.
Jennifer shook her head. “What?”
Carson opened his eye and fixed it on Jennifer. Rad watched the camera lens in the other socket rotate, focusing.
“Bushwhacked. Ambushed. Hijacked! We had a stowaway…” Carson collapsed into a fit of coughing.
Rad frowned. Carson needed help. He looked over his shoulder at Grieves and the agents, but Grieves was already on his feet, turning to his men.
“Get this man out and to the ambulances by the police cordon. Move.”
The agents moved in, and Rad gently pulled Byron to one side.
Jennifer looked at Rad, and Rad thought he could see her blink deep within the eyeholes of the golden mask. She turned to Byron. “A stowaway made you crash?”
Byron inclined his head.
Rad looked around. “He must be buried under this lot somewhere.” The stowaway’s chances didn’t look good.
“It was the robot commander, the one who called himself the King of 125th Street,” said Byron.
Jennifer jumped like she’d been given an electric shock. She whirled on Rad, the tails of her long coat flying.
“James,” she said, breathlessly. “James is here. He came through.”
Rad grabbed hold of Jennifer’s arm. “I don’t like to say it but I’m not sure he would have made it. Look at this. It’s a miracle that the Captain and Byron got out like they did.”
“Rad!”
The call came from outside the wreck. Rad and Jennifer looked at each other and raced to the exit, Byron close behind.
Mr Grieves was kneeling beside some torn debris that matched the metalwork of the crashed airship, his three agents carefully making their way towards the police cordon with Captain Carson carried between them.
Rad dropped to his knee, Jennifer by his side.
“What is it?” she asked.
Rad peered at the ground, then looked at her, his expression set. “Looks like… blood?”
“No,” she said as she trailed her gloved fingers in the substance. “Machine oil. Lubricant. From a robot.”
“There is more here,” said Byron. The trio moved, and Rad quickly caught sight of the oily spatter that formed a trail through the rubble, towards the husk of the Chrysler Building.
Rad and Grieves exchanged a look.
“He’s gone inside,” said Rad.
“If you’re going to say we need to follow the trail, I’m not sure the building meets city regulations right at the moment,” said Grieves. Rad stared at the man for a moment, then turned around.
But Jennifer had already left, walking at pace towards the shattered entrance.
“Yeah,” said Rad. “Good luck with that. Come on.”
Rad turned and jogged after Jennifer. After a moment, he heard Grieves follow.
FORTY-NINE
The gun kicked in Nimrod’s hand, the sound loud, reverberating off the thick plate glass behind him. He blinked the smoke away and his nostrils were filled with the smell of fireworks and dirt.
Evelyn McHale smiled, and Nimrod took a breath and fired again, and again, five more shots. Then he sighed, his arm dropping to his side. He stepped forward, until he was within touching distance of the Director’s rippling blue aura. Through her he could see the marks on the New York mural where the bullets had struck.
“Well?” he said, his eyes dark and narrow. “What do you want from me? You have what you want. You have the Fissure. Your organization has control of the city.” He waved at the cityscape below and behind them. “I must have a purpose. You said that everything does, that free will is an illusion and that you can see into the future, down our predetermined paths. So what is to become of me, hmm?”
The Director tilted her head, and when she spoke it was with infinite patience. Nimrod had to control the rage burning inside him. He could already feel the heat