past two months. Think she just had them grabbed off the street?”
“Yeah, I do. Give us a new search grid?”
Half an hour later we’d found the Wicked Witch’s new castle.
Chapter Thirty Six
Mr. Shankman has declined to comment on the Paladins’ recent attack on The Fortress, the popular superhero-themed café and nightclub. Donald Welsh, a spokesman for Mr. Shankman’s campaign, has publicly denied any links between the “public-spirited Mr. Shankman and any terrorist or militia groups, whatever their goals.” At the same time, the Shankman Campaign continues to decry the city’s employment of “contracted peacekeepers,” whom it denounces as nothing more than licensed thugs.
Chicago Evening News.
* * *
To my surprise, instead of ordering us to remain at our position while the rest of the team mustered, Blackstone called us back to the Dome. Arriving, we found everybody there, crowding the Assembly Room. Back from Washington, Watchman sat beside Variform and “Agent Robbins,” a DSA agent in suit and shades and one of Legion. I wondered why Bob or New Tom or Willis didn’t just put on a DSA badge as needed. Dad was there, Iron Jack, so solid and calm in the electric atmosphere (not Lei Zi’s fault) I just wanted to go over and hug him.
Once we were all present, Blackstone stood up. He looked exhausted. Quin didn’t look much better, and her latex-like skin didn’t shadow under her eyes like his did. But he smiled as he looked around the table, giving Artemis and me a nod.
“Thank you all for coming,” he said. “I’m sure all of you have been hearing the latest news reports, and the threats of political action. It hasn’t helped that news of Villains Inc.’s reconstitution and its war with the Mob has gotten out. Chicagoans can live with a lot, but the thought of a three-way superhero-supervillain-supervillain war doesn’t make anyone happy.
“The good news is that, finally, we are in a position to take the war to our enemies. Detective Fisher?”
Fisher pulled himself to his feet. Somewhere he’d found time to change, but he looked even more rumpled than usual. He gave me a wink, and lit up. As he looked around the table, it was so quiet I could hear my own heartbeat.
“Alright people, let’s do a refresher. This all started with a bank heist and a related murder. With the fingerprints of organized crime all over it, the only reason it stayed in my department was superpowers were involved both times.”
There were nods around the table.
“Things started getting interesting when you guys tried to execute the warrant for Hecate’s arrest. Sure, she might have realized she’d been outed when Dr. Cornelius banished her pet demon, but maybe not. If not, someone told her we were coming—and outside of this team, only my department and the warrant judge knew about the raid. So when Mr. Ross quietly reached out and touched me asking for police protection, I had a problem.”
“Mr. Ross?” I blurted, then flushed. Fisher smiled.
“Astra asked me what I thought had happened to our elusive Mr. Ross, and I told her that if he really was an Outfit banker we’d be lucky to find the body. Since I couldn’t be sure of my own department, I made an arrangement with Agent Robbins and the local DSA office; Mr. Ross has spent the last two weeks in a safe safe house. As the banker, he doesn’t know many real names, but he has been able to provide several descriptions—the Department of Superhuman Affairs brought in a telepathic sketch-artist, and now I believe I know who our leak is.”
He stopped and took a deep draw.
“So the Outfit wants Mr. Ross, but they’ve got other problems. Hecate is their biggest. Friends over in Organized Crimes tipped me that Mickey Kean died of a heart attack the day after Mr. Moffat was put in a box. The name means nothing to any of you, but it’s their guess that he was Ross’s boss. Three days later, his personal physician, Dr. Dresher, died a bit less naturally. The OC guys’d had their eyes on him for awhile, on the theory that he was one of the Outfit’s more subtle hitters, and apparently he was Dr. Millibrand’s doctor as well. Perfect cover for their meetings.”
“How did he die?” Seven asked.
“Fast—at least ninety miles an hour fast. It took us awhile to work out that it was murder. It’s a guessing game, but I think that what happened was Mickey overreacted to the bonds theft and ordered Hecate