( continues...) extending her hand. It's more formal than friendly, though.
“Welcome to CID,” says the woman. “I'm DS Smith. I guess we'll be working together.”
I shake her hand and smile. There's something in her look – does she not trust me? Did I take her promotion? I can't read her. This one's actually English, though, so that's reassuring. I was beginning to get suspicious.
“Looking forward,” I say, deciding to stick with the game. “Sorry I'm late. Got into a scuffle on the way here.”
“He stopped a mugging,” adds Etta, brightly. DS Smith's smile becomes slightly more genuine. She's still suspicious of me, but it's subsiding.
“What,” says another voice, from a desk in the corner. A large, dark-haired man with a London accent – much rougher than DS Smith's – “is he expecting a medal?”
Most of the room laughs, but the man just glares at me, a sort of brooding anger just underneath his skin. DS Smith sort of roles her eyes and speaks up, bringing the room back to attention.
“Don't mind DC Black,” she says. “He's just winding you up.”
'Right,” says a bellowing English voice on the other side of the office. “If anyone's going to do any winding up around here, it's gonna be me!”
All eyes turn towards the large man who has just entered from an office across the room.
“So you're the Yank they sent me,” he says, looking me up and down. “What? They didn't have any Frenchmen this time?”
There are a few nervous laughs. I step forward and start to introduce myself, when I realize that Etta – who is suddenly standing stiffly at attention – has actually stepped back away from me. That cant be good.
“DI Kord,” she says, barely concealing a sudden nervousness, “This is DCI Hunt.”
The large man looks me up and down.
“Show the Yank his desk and get him outfitted,” he says, dismissively. “We don't have time for tea and crumpets with the queen.”
A seriousness falls across his face as he addresses the room.
“There's been another kidnapping.”
Heaven's in Here
Part Three: Dead Man's Party
I think I may have a screamed the entire drive from the station to Braddock Academy, a “posh” boarding school in Westminster. I should have been thinking about the case or how to get home, but it was everything I could do to hang on for dear life as DCI Hunt propelled his “Starsky & Hutch” colored 1985 BMW M5 through the streets of London, going far, far out of his way so he could find roads to “open 'er up on.”
My face was greener than the Martian Manhunter with too many Oreos in him.
“Ah, c'mon, Nancy,” shouted Hunt. “I thought you Yanks loved your fast cars and your big guns. Show me a little Clint Eastwood, why don't ya? GO AHEAD PUNK, MAKE MY DAY!”
And that's when it occurred to me that “The Dead Pool” had only been out for a couple years, and he was still re-enacting the movie as he swerved in and out of traffic and flew around blind corners. On the other hand, we beat everyone from the station there.
“The boy's name is Brian Braddock III,” said a uniformed officer, handing Hunt a photograph of the handsome blonde teenager.
“I'm guessing it's not just a coincidence the place is named after him, then,” said Hunt, snarling.
“No, guv,” said the officer. “His family founded the place, and his father's on the Board of Trustees.”
“Of course he is,” said Hunt. “All right, Nancy, let's go talk to the headmaster.
“You really need to stop calling me Nancy, DCI Hunt,” I said, trying to sound somewhat professional. “My name is Kord. Ted Kord.”
“Right,” said Hunt, not even looking at him. “All right, DI Yankee Doodle Dandy, this is the second kidnapping at this school, following one suspicious death.”
He handed me a small stack of folders he had stuffed in his trenchcoat.
“The boy who died was named Aiden Walker. Found a few blocks away. It looks like he was running, fell and hit his head. Then, when the girl Nara McKenzie went missing, we began to see a pattern, and figured the first death was a kidnapping attempt gone wrong.”
“And now another kid,” I said, thinking out loud. “Ransom demands?”
“None yet,” said Hunt, as we came to the Headmaster's office. “But the day is young.”
We took statements from the headmaster and other staff members, and then fanned out to search the campus. I took the main building, alongside some uniformed officers whose names I never caught. We'd been given a list of young Brian's friends, but it was pretty much every kid on campus. The list of his enemies was virtually identical.
The uniforms had begun searching dorms. I was amazed that parents hadn't called their kids home after the first kidnapping. Must be a stiff upper lip thing. The police went through the rooms with clockwork efficiency, while I tried to look for something out of place. I feel a few rooms behind them, looking around one that had just been searched. A radio had been left on, playing Michael Jackson's “Bad.” I sighed, and extended my hand to turn it off, when there was a squelch of static, and suddenly, a familiar voice was talking.
“Blue Beetle's dead,” said a voice that was unmistakably Bruce's. No one sounded like Bruce when he was in Batman mode. And trust me, I've tried to imitate him a few times.
Then it hit me: “Wait, did he say I was dead?”
'Gaea's mercy,” said a voice that I recognized as Diana's.
“No ...” gasped Booster. I knew all of these voices. I wanted to scream at them, tell them I wasn't dead, but instead I just listened, in shock.
“I believe Ted discovered who stole Brother I,” said Bruce. See, that's what a detective sounds like! “and I believe that's why he was murdered.”
“It was Max,” I said to the radio. “Max killed me. Max ...”
I wanted to throw up.
“YOU SON OF A BITCH,” shouted Booster. “Ted went to you at the start! He went to you and you knew what he was getting into and you refused to tell him!”
Angry Booster had a very good point.
“Booster,” says Diana. Trying to be the voice of reason.
“Booster,” says Bruce, although (continued...)
( continues...) it's clear even he doesn't know what to say.
“YOU GOT HIM KILLED,” shouts Booster and there's a crackle of static and then …
“DI Kord,” says one of the policemen, and suddenly it's just Michael Jackson's voice coming out of the radio. “Are you all right, sir?”
“Yeah,” I said, catching my breath. “Still … still a little beat up from this morning.” I laughed. “Dead tired.”
"Sir,” said the cop, who obviously didn't know what else to say. What could he say. Even if he believed me.
We were a team I thought. How could they ...
And then, out of the corner of my eye, I spied a photo of the school soccer … err, football … team. Braddock was on that team. It was in the file. But Aiden was a little out of shape, and there were no girls on the team, which discounted Nara. But still …
“Find something interesting?” said a gruff voice from the doorway. I turned, and it was DC Black.
“Maybe,” I said. Just a hunch, but … we need someone to go through all three of these kids' classes and activities again. Any clubs they belonged to. Social groups. There's a connection here. I can feel it.
"Right,” said Black, and there was sort of a sulk in his voice, like he was about to argue, but knew he was outranked. I can make people do things I realized!!!!!
Black just nodded as he walked off, but I could feel it. There was something about these kids. Something no one else could see.
I moved on to the next room, but it was hard to concentrate. All I could hear was the rage and pain in Booster's voice.
