The Miranda Contract (10 page)

Chapter 14

Dan

B
eing trapped under
a collapsed hotel wasn’t as bad as he thought. Sure it was dark and there was a dusty, shattered cement kind of smell, but he managed to avoid being crushed to death in the explosion so he had to admit that was a bonus. As everything had fallen around him, tiles, mortar, the entire front section of the hotel; he instinctively pushed out with what was left of his stored energy and formed a magnetized shell around himself. It had worked, just like his grandfather taught him many years before. The explosives were his grandfather’s too, and Dan wondered whether the celebration of the Mad Russian’s return was supposed to serve as a warning to Dan, or an invitation for a reunion. The whole thing was choreographed, he could tell that, including the suicidal shooter; but Dan didn’t know what he was expected to do about it.

And now he was at the police station. It was always the same one. He sat waiting for the show to begin, having already spent half an hour with Alsana arguing about insurance and indemnities. She’d received a phone call mid-sentence and decided to take it outside the interview room. And she hadn’t come back. The whole time he was with her he kept looking at the ceiling, expecting his grandfather to rip it open and snatch him into the air. His thoughts wandered and then doubled back, skirting around the growing thump of a headache. Everything around him was a blur, and the chain attached to his wrist had carved a red line around his wrist which itched and stung at the same time. Since arriving at the station Dan hadn’t been able to properly focus on anything electrical. There was still a buzz around him, but it was out of kilter, like an afterglow rather than the real thing.

Dan sat alone in the interview room, his eyes half-closed as he watched through the glass at the uniforms rushing about in the wake of the airport hotel bombing. His head still throbbed but it was getting better. He rubbed at the cold metal bracelet around his wrist, discharging minute shocks of electricity into it, hoping to unlock the code but knowing it was unlikely. In the hours since he’d woken in the unfamiliar hotel he’d tried to get rid of it but all he’d managed with his bursts of electricity was to magnetize the thing.

He didn’t see the funny side when the bracelet snapped hard against the metal table. He pulled it across the surface and dislodged the magnetic connection just as the door opened and the familiar figure of Detective Schwarz stepped in. He stopped just inside the room to give Dan a disapproving look. His eyes moved from the bandage on Dan’s head, slowly down to the torn shirt and black burn marks.

Dan smiled at him.

Schwarz took a seat opposite, placing his cup of coffee on the table and grunting in greeting. With his hands free, the policeman smoothed down his moustache and sighed. Behind him came a young woman in uniform, with dark hair and a clipboard bursting with files held to her chest. He knew that clipboard: it had his name on it.

“This is Ryan,” Schwarz said.

The uniform was obviously new. She didn’t look at Dan, and the way she was focusing on the report meant she’d been briefed on his juvenile criminal history. Dan knew the ‘up-cycleds’ were an office joke. He had four years’ experience.

Schwarz shifted in his seat and folded his large arms across his crinkled shirt. Dan was ready for the usual introductions.

“Still having trouble keeping your pants on?” Schwarz said.

Dan shrugged.

“Killed anyone lately?”

“No,” Dan said, looking at the table, fingers splayed in front of him. “It’s been a slow week.”

“Are you trying to be funny?”

“People say I’m not funny.”

“You’re not funny.”

“That’s what they say.”

Schwarz reached for his cup and smiled through his moustache. It was the same routine.

“You’re going to get yourself killed,” he said, and it wasn’t one of the practiced lines. Dan shrugged. Schwarz was probably right.

Ryan took the cue from her partner and retrieved a document folder from her files. Dan saw the distinctive red and blue logo of the up-cycled program and said nothing as the paperwork was slid across to him. Schwarz handed him a pen.

“You’ll need to sign at the crosses,” Ryan said but Dan already knew. The forms were familiar to him. They covered statutory declarations on good behavior, a questionnaire about all activities since the previous form, poorly written threats dressed up as codes of conduct, and finally a waiver for any injury he may incur as being a part of the up-cycled program. Dan finished the last signature with a flourish and sat back.

“There’s word that your grandfather is back in town,” Schwarz said slowly. Ryan reached across and collected the final sheet of signatures and declarations. “Now, I know you’re too smart to get mixed up with him again, but you’ve got to look out for yourself.”

“He’s probably gone by now anyway,” Dan said.

“There’s a reason they call him
Mad
, Danny. You can’t predict his behavior, any more than we can.”

“He’s been gone for years. If he’s back then he’ll want to get his hands on his war machines and hook up with his Cold War buddies,” Dan said.

Schwarz nodded and Dan couldn’t help but shake his head and smile in disbelief.

“You think he’s going to care about me?”

“I think you’re right about his first priorities,” Schwarz said. “And Danny, my boy, you are his primary war machine, whether you like it or not.”

Dan didn’t like it. Ryan clearly didn’t like it either, and she gathered up her files and muttered some excuse for leaving. As the door closed Schwarz scratched his moustache and sighed. He reached forward, clicked off the recorder and sighed again. Dan hadn’t said a thing. He hadn’t even looked Schwarz in the eye.

“I don’t say this to make you angry,” he said softly. “I say it because I care about you.”

“I know,” Dan said. “Everyone cares about me.”

“This thing is off, you know?” the policeman said. “You don’t have to drip the sarcasm anymore. Danny, the Celestial Knights are off-planet. If your grandfather makes a grab for you then we’ve only got conventional defenses, the good men and women of the force. If he finds out that his enemies are out of the picture then he’ll get bold, he’ll get reckless.”

The Celestial Knights had always opposed Dan’s grandfather and other uberpowered megalomaniacs. They were the best of the best and apart from the occasional on-the-job death to prevent the destruction of a planet or an entire dimension, they were pretty much unstoppable.

Dan had personal experience of that. He rubbed his wrist where the metal bracelet still held firm. The dullness in his mind and the familiar energy signature from the hotel at the airport seemed to coalesce.

“He won’t be a problem.”

Dan’s phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out and frowned at the large crack across the screen. He wondered whether he could claim it on insurance but since the phone still worked he couldn’t be bothered.

“Important call?” Schwarz asked.

“It’s not the Mad Russian, if that’s what you mean,” Dan said, sliding the phone across to Schwarz. The older man squinted his eyes as he tried to read the text. Then his eyes widened and he smiled, sliding the phone back to Dan.

“That’s some girl,” he said.

“She probably just wants to yell at me for wrecking her day,” Dan shrugged.

“Still, she was worried about you at the site, and her man managed to pull you out of there faster than we could have managed.”

“Yeah, I guess she’s a little bit awesome.”

Schwarz laughed and stood up. He held his hand out to Dan and helped him up, giving him a firm, close handshake at the door. They’d known each other for years and suddenly Dan felt like just hugging the man, not letting go.

“Look after yourself, Danny.”

And in the end that’s what he had to do.

The text message practically ordered Dan to meet Miranda at another hotel, although not her own one, he noticed. It was near Birdie’s and since he’d left his stuff in the boss’s office, he agreed to meet her, although he didn’t really have a choice.

As he walked through the city he pushed out with his powers, trying to manipulate the world one little energy spike at a time. Changing the traffic lights was easy but pushing his mind into more subtle systems like the telephone networks was beyond him. Whenever he tried there was a grey fog, a dullness that pushed against him, and now he knew it was coming from the bracelet.

Ever since the hotel explosion he hadn’t been able to
hear
the world around him. He had been locked out of surveillance, phone and internet networks. The subtlety was gone. And it was somehow connected to his grandfather.

Dan slammed the bracelet into a pole as he stepped up onto the footpath, swinging wide and bringing it in hard and fast. There was a clanging sound and he felt the jarring shudder up his arm, but the bracelet itself was unchanged, no dent, no marks at all.

Nothing changed.

But it did start to rain.

The entourage relaxed into the lobby, folding itself on strategically placed sofas and against pillars of marble. Dan’s eyes took in their positions from over the top of the newspaper, but he didn’t move from his chair, and tried to look as unimpressed as possible. He counted eight of them, boys and girls, but all wearing designer clothes and attitude. The camera crew was absent.

Miranda Brody sauntered towards him with her hips jutting out like she did on stage. Dan turned the page.

“You nearly got me killed,” Brody said. Her arms were on those hips, the red carpet pose.

“I was going to say the same thing,” Dan said, folding the paper. He was over-acting, but at the same time he knew she deserved some return-fire attitude for abandoning him. And since Alsana was now missing again, having stormed out at the station, Miranda was the only target. “But I didn’t see you come in.”

She narrowed her eyes into deadly slits.

“You – nearly – got – me – killed,” she said again, slowly, like he was one of her lackeys.

“You’re the mega-star,” he said. “You’re the target.”

“I know about your grandfather.”

Dan was shocked. He ran his fingers back over his forehead, pressing his head a little where he had been bleeding. He felt sick.

Miranda sat down opposite him. She reached out a hand, nearly touching his knee, but then she pulled back.

“It wasn’t me,” Dan said, lifting his arm so that the chain which had been attached to the briefcase was visible. “I think it was this.”

Her gaze briefly fell across the broken chain but Dan could tell she didn’t know why it was important either. Her people kept their distance.

“What are you talking about?” she said softly.

“It’s doing something to me. Making me a bit off, you know.”

She shook her head. He managed a smile.

“It’s messing with my powers.” There was that word again: powers. Dan took a breath and sat up, calming himself while knowing that Miranda was probably right. Everyone knew the Mad Russian was involved, and everyone knew that Dan was always going to be a loose end to be tied up, one way or another.

“So why does he want to kill you?” Miranda asked. “Your grandfather.”

Dan shrugged.

“You have no idea?” she asked, still keeping her voice low.

He met her eyes and she didn’t look away. God, she was gorgeous.

“I don’t know,” he said. “But you were attacked too. Someone wants you hurt, or worse.”

It was Miranda’s turn to shrug and she crossed her legs.

“We’re the odd couple, aren’t we?” she asked. “Still, we can’t just sit around and wait for the next building to fall on your head.”

She stood up and called to her people. They moved towards the exit, but she stopped before she disappeared.

“You’re fired, by the way. It’s too dangerous for us to be together.”

Dan sank back into his chair.

“You’re not kidding.”

“Don’t worry, Dan. I’ll be gone soon and you won’t have to worry about me anymore.”

Chapter 15

The Mad Russian

T
he dark clouds
released the rain in a torrent, reducing visibility and plunging the city into a premature evening. The Russian sat, quite dry and comfortable, in a leather chair below the bustle of the city. His legs were crossed and he held a glass of white wine delicately in his left hand as he watched the street on a video monitor. The room itself was mostly dark, highlighted in the corners with subdued reddish light from hooded lamps. Sima had only just left him and he could still smell her perfume. He swished his glass again slowly, and took a sip. On the screen, he watched as his grandson stumbled out of a hotel looking right and then left.

The Russian smiled. Danya stepped right into the street and was drenched within seconds but he didn’t seem to care about his clothes or his own comfort. There was a desperation in his movements, the jutting chin, his eyes trying to look above the skittering crowds as the people made to escape the deluge.

“You looking for someone, Danya?” he chuckled.

There were other cameras, other vantage points, and as the boy ran down towards the traffic lights the screen flickered and was replaced with a closer view. Pearl’s contacts in Chinatown had been meticulous with the surveillance. The Russian made a mental note to thank her and her shark-toothed nephew.

The boy ran across the road, not waiting for the lights to change. He weaved between a taxi and a cyclist before stepping up on to the curb and grabbing past a group of black coated men.

Miranda Brody was there, like a poisonous flower; surrounded by pretty little things hiding from the rain.

“It is like from a film, yes?” the Russian said, taking another sip of the wine. He heard Halo enter, felt the shift in the energy fields which were getting stronger and stronger every day. Sometimes the Russian felt as if he could stab out his own eyes and still see better than the humans around him. Heat flushed through his neck and cheeks as he thought about plucking out his own eyes, the intensity of the feeling making him pause and turn his attention away from his grandson and the reunion with the celebrity girl.

He closed his eyes, took a measured breath; and pushed aside the violence which swirled in his mind. Halo, ever the quiet observer, remained standing just inside the room.

“You wish to be there,” the Russian said softly, eyes still closed.

“I know my place,” Halo replied. “Timing will be everything.”

The Russian nodded, smiling.

“You learn lessons well, Halo. A true son. And very unlike the boy on our screens, yes?”

Both men looked back to see Dan and Miranda arguing in the rain in front of a fast food place. The girl’s retainers were shielding her with black umbrellas, but her hands were wild, flying in all directions, her teeth flashing white.

“My grandson has perhaps met his match.”

On the street, Luke Ma watched the unfolding drama through dark shades. He counted six members of Miranda Brody’s entourage including two security guards and four assistants. The guards were local. They looked bored by the celebrity’s yelling. Their fists were clenched, waiting for even half a reason to intervene, but the girl wouldn’t let up. Luke knew the type of security gorillas he was dealing with here, and he thought Dan did as well but the fool kept getting in the girl’s face.

The one side of the street was empty apart from his targets, and the traffic dropped off to a slow crawl through the sheets of rain and water covering the road. On the other side, though, there were still groups of shoppers, using the shadow of the skyscrapers to shield themselves from the rain.

Luke looked up from the shoppers towards where his cousin waited. Lily stood with her legs apart, balancing on the awning overhanging a camera store. Her black coat whipped behind her in the wind and Luke realized the storm was coming earlier than expected. A part of him knew the Mad Russian was involved in the build up of energy. There was a madness out there, swirling above them, ready to explode.

But Luke could manage an explosion.

Melbourne was overdue for some action anyway, and Luke was more than willing to be the catalyst. He touched his earpiece and flexed his jaw, the cracking sound clearly audible through his piece.

“Follow my lead,” he said. Lily didn’t respond, but then again, she hardly spoke at all anymore.

He stepped out onto the street, casually throwing off his coat and letting it flap around on the wet road behind him. He stood there with his arms out to each side, the hard black armor strapped to his torso and forearms glistening in the rain. He cracked his neck twice, once to each side, and then stared down an approaching car.

Normally he would operate in the shadows, use his strength and training to do his aunt’s work without most of the world ever knowing about it. But the latest orders were explicit. The Mad Russian wanted to leave an impression on Melbourne. Personally, Luke thought the idea was short sighted; that any exposure now would only hurt their clandestine activities later, but his aunt was not open to discussion. Whatever hold the Russian had on her, it was solid.

And so Luke and Lily were sent out to bring about destruction, chaos and perhaps even a little death. His aunt called them her two little dragons.

The car’s tyres screeched and skidded to the right, but the water across the road didn’t allow for much traction and it slid towards Luke who waited with open arms. He could see the woman’s terrified eyes as she wrestled with the steering wheel. It was a family car. A child’s capsule was strapped in the back but there was only the woman inside.

As it slammed into Luke he forced his fingers deep into its door and the force of the impact pushed him back nearly twenty feet before his own boots gathered enough traction to stop the momentum.

He didn’t wait to let the woman scramble out. He didn’t wait to hear the crowds or even glance towards Dan. Instead, he swung the sedan around behind him, turning like a discus thrower, his fingers gripping the metal and easily lifting the car off the ground. He swung it around three times before letting it go. It sailed up a little before crashing to the street, denting the bonnet before flipping end over end towards Dan and the celebrity group.

Luke grabbed a second car, even as the first was still flipping. It had been driving towards Dan anyway, so Luke only had to swing it around once before sending it careening after the first one.

It was beautiful.

He stood and wiped his hand across his face, the smell of petrol and wet hair in the air and he smiled.

The first car exploded and Luke stepped back in surprise, unsure whether that had been the plan or not, but marveling at his handiwork anyway. The sudden flare of orange highlighted the grey streets, and in the flickering afterglow Luke was impressed to see that he’d hit Dan and the group head-on. A perfect shot.

“Behind you, cousin,” Lily called softly through the earpiece.

At the same time, the road trembled, like an earthquake. Luke turned around, smiling through his three sets of jagged shark teeth.

A bearded man crouched in the middle of the road like he’d just landed. The surface was pock-marked and where the man’s large hands rested, Luke saw the road had shattered. The man stood up. He was wearing a black turban and suit, and as he unfolded himself to his full height, Luke could tell he was a very tall man.

“This is good,” he whispered to his cousin. “Watch me tear this guy up.”

“Who is this man?” the Mad Russian demanded, standing up from his chair, forgetting the wine and turning to face Halo who still stood by the door. “Who is this man who falls from the sky?”

Halo was watching the screens too, but he didn’t know much more than the Russian. There wasn’t any known superhero matching the man’s description and he thought it was too much of a coincidence for a new hero to suddenly surface in the middle of his game. The Russian had only made his move for Dan after being certain any real opposition was out of the country.

“Looks like a Muslim,” Halo said.

“‘Looks like a Muslim’?” the Russian mimicked. “‘Looks like a Muslim’?”

“A Sikh?” Halo faltered.

“You paid to know these things, stupid boy. Find out.”

“But…”

“No but. You go get this man. I put end to this now. Go.”

The Russian’s eyes flashed with white light as he swung his head around the room, from the screens to the desk and then to Halo at the door.

Halo nodded quickly and slipped out of the room, a smile creeping across his face as he heard the sound of shattered glass behind him.

Luke hunched over the lip of the storefront, his gloved fingers thrust deeply into the corrugated iron, holding his place steady. The interrupted shoppers scattered across the street, clutching at their shopping and their children, cries and shouts reaching up to him as he slowly opened his mouth to reveal his triple set of razor teeth.

“Nice punch,” he said, spitting blood to the side, as he looked down at the giant man who was pushing his way through the wreckage of the two cars across the street. “Think I might chew your arm off now.”

The car wreckage merged with the front of the fast food place, all twisted metal and collapsed mortar. Luke dropped to the street again, his ribs a little sore from where the man had struck him, but nothing too serious.

“You won’t find anyone but little pieces, man,” Luke called out. “Who are you anyhow?”

The man straightened up from his search and turned around, his hands holding the second car’s rear door. Luke noticed some movement around the wreckage. The fast food place had people in it too, silhouettes shifting from place to place behind the light of the fire which still licked around the engine of the first car.

“I am Suleyman,” the man said.

“Well, I’m the Card Shark,” Luke said, closing the gap between them. He watched Suleyman closer though, not wanting to be taken by surprise a second time. “And you have stumbled on to something that does not concern you.”

Suleyman placed the door down. He looked sadly at the wreckage around him and then subtly towards the food store. Luke almost missed the glance.

“How many did I get, you think?”

There was a sound through the earpiece he shared with Lily, and Luke cupped his ear to cut through the static. It wasn’t coming from his cousin though. It was closer. The sound intensified, the crackle becoming unbearable. Luke pulled it out of his ear and threw it to the ground after static energy burnt his fingers.

He shot a look past Suleyman into the fast food store.

“No way,” he mumbled. “I didn’t get them did I?”

“You got enough,” Suleyman said. “Four dead that I can tell.”

Luke punched the air and swore, spinning to look back down the street towards Chinatown. He knew that the Russian would be watching, and watching him fail to kill the celebrity or injure Dan in any decent way would be enough to bring shame down upon him. He could already imagine the stony look on his aunt’s face.

“You have done quite enough,” Suleyman said. Luke spun around again and leapt straight at the man, his legs pushing him with enough force to bring them both to the ground. But the bearded man took the fall well, as if he’d had practice, and then threw Luke to the side.