Rad’s back touched the shelf behind him, and he jumped in fright. He sighed, his breath clouding the air, and turned.
Something caught his eye. There was a large object on the shelf, square, wrapped in plastic sheeting that hadn’t yet frosted over. There was something pinkish within, and there were marks on the shelf where the frost had been scraped off. The object was new, placed there only hours ago.
Rad didn’t want to see what it was, but he had a feeling it was important.
He grabbed the trailing corner of sheeting, and pulled. It moved easily, the plastic cold but still pliable, silky. Three turns and the object was exposed.
Rad felt the bile rise in his throat. The object was a glass head, like the kind in a fancy hat store. Except this head was bare – but for the front. Spread across the sculpted glass features was a face, a real human face, made of flesh and skin, with eyebrows and lips and nose. The glass face underneath was a standard model, and the real face adhering to it didn’t match the structure, not completely, resulting in a strange, distorted visage.
But it was enough for Rad to recognize. He coughed, and felt a hot bitterness against the back of his throat. He turned away from it, and almost tripped out of the freezer. He slammed the door behind him, then crashed his back into it and closed his eyes, taking deep breaths of air that were cold but warmer than in the freezer.
That settled it. They’d walked into a house of horror, the likes of which Rad had never seen before. In the dark places of the city, the King of 125th Street was putting into motion an insane plan, a plan that had to be stopped before his army of robots was activated, unleashing who knew what hell on the city as the Empire State plunged into a war with New York.
Rad pushed off the door, determined to get back to the workshop and find Jennifer and get them all out of there.
He was equally determined not to tell Jennifer he’d found her surgically removed face on a glass head in the freezer.
THIRTY
Rad found Jennifer in the workshop, and felt a surge of relief that she hadn’t run into the Corsair.
“The Corsair saw me.”
Scratch that. Rad nodded as he caught his breath. As he stood in the doorway, one hand on the frame, he couldn’t help but stare at the agent’s golden face. It was a beautiful piece of work, like a fine sculpture. He’d have to tell her about what was in the freezer, have to.
Jennifer took a step forward and Rad jerked back in surprise.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” said Rad quickly. He darted to the door on the opposite side of the workshop and opened it. He listened a moment, but the corridor was empty and there was no sound from the furnace room. Rad closed the door and turned back to Jennifer. “So the Corsair’s coming?”
“He was outside,” said Jennifer. “He saw me. Then I think he came back in, but he’s not here. But–”
“Did you have any luck?”
Jennifer held up her hand. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. The Corsair is wearing the Skyguard’s suit. What’s left of it, anyway.”
Rad swore and swept the hat off his head. He knew there was something familiar about the face, and now he could picture exactly what it was. Take away the wings and the square grille that should have been in front of the face like the visor of a medieval helmet, and you were left with the austere features of the Corsair, just the vertical slots of the mouth and the round eyes of the Skyguard recognizable. Small details, but enough.
“I think he knew, as well,” said Jennifer.
“Knew what?”
Jennifer didn’t say anything; she just stood there as Rad waited. He could see her eyes blink behind the mask, but nothing else; her face was beautiful but frozen, immobile.
Rad stepped away from the door. “He knew what?”
“That I should have killed you when I had the chance.”
Rad spun around. The Corsair stood in the doorway, fists clenched, wrapped still in the giant black fur coat. Rad and Jennifer backed away and the Corsair pulled off the coat, revealing the chauffeur’s uniform. At the neck, Rad saw the bodysuit – the remains of the Skyguard’s suit – disappear under the collar of the uniform. Rad just hoped that most of it was still intact beneath.