Against the Eldest Flame Read online

  The elevator door had already closed, but Doc hit the override and jumped into the shaft, landing on the roof of the car with a thump. He opened the access door and dropped in between Gus and Vic. “Sorry about that.”

  Gus brushed debris off his suit. “Don’t worry about it, boss. Suit needed cleaning after the zombie anyway.”

  Doc nodded. “Schmidt was SS—wonder why he was trying to warn me.”

  “You do look like you ought to be one of the Master Race,” Vic commented. “More so than Gus, anyway.”

  “I resent that,” Gus complained.

  “You resent not looking like a Nazi?” Vic shook her head. “That’s a first.”

  “That wasn’t what I meant and you know it, young lady.”

  The elevator door opened, cutting off the discussion and Doc led his two associates into the lobby, waving to the elevator operators as they ran toward the door.

  Out on the street, the first thing Doc saw was a small crowd gathered on the sidewalk. Pushing forward, he used his six-foot four-inch frame to work his way through the crowd to where he could see the body. Surprisingly it was still recognizable as a gorilla, though from the way it was lying it appeared to have broken the majority of bones in its body. Leaning over the corpse, Doc picked up the amulet which was surprisingly heavy. There was a faint smell of smoke from it, like a circuit that had burned out. Not wanting to draw attention, he slipped it in his pocket and turned back toward his cohorts.

  “Anything interesting, Doc?” Gus asked.

  “Tell you when we’re back inside.” Doc waved away the question. Anybody could be listening. “Where’s Vic?”

  “She was right behind me.” The gorilla shrugged. “I can push through a crowd better than she can.”

  Doc scanned the crowd, but Vic was nowhere to be seen. Then he saw a familiar figure in a black leather coat disappear around a corner. “Follow me!”

  Whistling too high for the average human to hear, Doc chased after the figure, only to find a busy street with no sign of Vic or the figure in the black coat. It was as if they had disappeared into thin air.

  #

  Doc led Gus back to his suite on the eighty-seventh floor, to find Gilly Chanter waiting for him.

  “Where’s Vic?” Gilly asked.

  “Gone,” Doc said tersely. “Like the body that was lying right where you’re standing.”

  “There was no body lying here when I arrived, Boss.” Gilly scratched his head. “I was surprised to find the place empty.”

  Gus slapped himself in the head, loud enough to interrupt Gilly and Doc. “I knew I should have finished that banana. You can’t kill a zombie by snapping its neck: it’s already dead.”

  “I was the one who left it behind,” Doc said. “Vic can handle herself. What I need to know is whether you found anything down there Gilly?”

  “Most everything was destroyed by the crash, Doc.” Gilly sighed. “I poked around a bit with the manipulator arms and only thing I found were some broken pressure tanks. Looked like they were planning some kind of gas attack.”

  “Gas attack?” Doc raised an eyebrow. “That’s odd. They were acting more like they were just going to crash into the building than spray gas over the city.”

  “Explosive gas, maybe?” Gus said brightly.

  “Could be.” Doc started pacing. “I wonder what they want with Vic?”

  “Food?” Gus padded over and grabbed another banana. “Zombies like brains, and for all she covers it with hair, Vic has a pretty good brain for one of you humans.”

  “That’s not funny, Gus!” Gilly glared at the gorilla, who simply peeled his banana.

  “I was only pointing out normal zombie behavior.”

  “Stop it, both of you.” Doc didn’t raise his voice but something in his tone stopped the other two in their tracks. “We don’t know what happened to Vic and we won’t be able to find her until we get more information. Gilly, I want you to go over everything you got from that wreck. Develop your pictures and find out everything possible. If there’s even a single word remaining on one of those broken pressure tanks I want to know it.”

  “Yes, Boss.”

  “Gus, I want you to run a full autopsy on that gorilla.”

  Gus nodded.

  “Tell me what he ate for breakfast, lunch and dinner - as well as any ‘medicinal’ herbs he may have imbibed or inhaled recently. I even want to know everything you can tell me about those feathers he was wearing.”

  “Right, Doc.” Gus ate the banana in one bite. “I’ll get right on it.”

  “What are you going to do, Doc?” Gilly asked.

  “The phone’s going to ring very soon. I think I’ll wait for it.”

  #

  The phone rang two short buzzes, the signal that told Doc it was the commissioner’s office on the line.

  “Doc here.”

  “Commissioner Pennyworth wants to see you and your band of blackguards in his office immediately.” There was neither friendliness nor any sort of politeness in the voice. “Both the mayor and the governor need to know what the hell just happened in the Hudson.”

  “Anger is bad for your blood pressure,” Doc replied. “We’ll be there.”

  Calling Gus and Gilly, Doc led the way to the elevator. “I hope you’ve secured the body,” he told Gus.

  “You worry too much, Boss.” The gorilla smiled. “Body’s locked in the cold room; and last I heard it’s kind of hard for even a zombie to move if both legs are broken in six places.”

  Doc nodded.

  They stepped out of the elevator in Doc’s private parking level. More than a dozen cars lined the walls, ranging from sporty roadsters to a plain van which could display any of several signs depending on the situation. Hidden in the back was an armored car of Doc’s own devising with an automatic cannon projecting over the long hood. Doc led the way to a large touring sedan with armored doors and a reinforced suspension. Gilly slipped behind the wheel while Doc and Gus took the back seats.

  The garage door opened automatically and Gilly took the car out onto the city streets. Traffic was light and most motorists knew to avoid the long dark green car. It was a short drive to Commissioner Pennyworth’s office and Doc spent the trip in silence. Even the normally garrulous Gus kept his mouth shut.

  Gilly parked in front of the station, taking a spot normally reserved for official vehicles.

  Once again leading the way, Doc pushed the door open and headed straight for the elevator banks. A police sergeant rose to block his way, but Doc brushed past him as if he wasn’t there. Gus saluted the sergeant with a hand to his forehead as he passed, but got no response. Commissioner Pennyworth’s office was on the eighth floor, and the operator selected it without prompting. Doc didn’t come to the station often, but when he did it was always to see the commissioner.

  Commissioner Pennyworth was waiting when the elevator doors opened. “Come, walk with me.”

  Doc fell in beside the tall heavyset commissioner, who was still a good three inches shorter than he was. Gus and Gilly fell in behind them.

  “So, tell me about your little aerial expedition earlier today.”

  Doc gave the commissioner a condensed version of what had happened aboard the Zeppelin that morning, doing his best to minimize the zombie aspects, and not bothering to mention that the Zeppelin had been under the control of Nazi gorillas. He knew that Pennyworth was more open-minded than his predecessor, but he had enough trouble with Augustus Q Ponchartrain; adding more gorillas to the mix would only confuse him. Instead he told a tale of foreign agents and an airship with a drugged crew.

  “And that explains what the German high commissioner was doing in my office, how?”

  “German high commissioner?” Doc was taken aback. “What was he doing here?”

  “Delivering a formal note of protest.” Pennyworth stopped and fixed Doc with the gaze of his monocled left eye. “Something about monkeys in party uniforms...”

  “Apes,” Gus correc
ted.

  Pennyworth swung around to face the gorilla. “When I want your opinion I’ll give it to you. Monkeys, apes, it’s all the same to the high commissioner.” He turned back to face Doc, color rising in his cheeks. “Either one is an insult to the German Reich, and he’s blaming you and wants to know what I’m going to do about it. There’s also the small matter of a military attaché who went missing somewhere in Africa but was last seen getting on the elevator for the eighty-seventh floor.”

  Doc nodded, his mind racing. It had been less than two hours since Schmidt had walked into his office. There was no way the high commissioner would know he wasn’t coming back unless he had inside information. How could he have known about the gorillas? None of the bodies had been recovered, had they? What was the high commissioner up to, and why was he telling Pennyworth? At least now he knew for sure that the Germans kept a watch on his home. Doc started whistling silently, letting the back of his mind do the work.

  “Do you have anything to add?” Pennyworth tapped his foot impatiently.

  “You might have noticed that Vic’s not with me,” Doc said softly.”

  “I had,” Pennyworth said. “Hopefully she’s come to her senses and realized nothing good will come from traipsing after you like a red-headed camp follower and decided to do something useful with her life.”

  “Your high commissioner’s precious attaché just kidnapped her.” Doc caught Pennyworth’s gaze with his own, trapping the other man’s attention with his steel gray eyes. “I was waiting for a call when you summoned me.”

  Pennyworth nodded. “The mayor still wants to know why you put a flaming Zeppelin into the Hudson. That’s a bit extreme even for you.”

  “It wouldn’t have lasted long enough to reach the three mile limit; and anything was better than the Republic State Building.”

  “I’m surprised it’s not airship proof.”

  “It is,” Doc replied, “but I didn’t know what the airship was carrying.” He shrugged. “I don’t know everything.”

  Pennyworth smiled. “Regardless, I do have to tell you that the German high commissioner is probably going to bring a lawsuit against you, and the papers he provided included a bill from Congo Air Cargo for seventy-five thousand dollars. There’s also some mention of insurance.”

  “I’ll file a counter-claim.” Doc responded. “Their property was heading straight for my home. Their insurance company can argue with mine and all the lawyers involved will buy new cars next year.”

  “Don’t count the high commissioner out yet. One of the assistant district attorneys is a bundist, and the high commissioner is trying to get him to bring charges against you for reckless endangerment. Something to do with piloting a flaming Zeppelin over a populated area.”

  “Let him try, I have my airship license.”

  Pennyworth laughed. “I don’t think that would matter.” He grew serious. “Nobody is being charged with anything. Yet. However, I do have to tell you that it would be in your best interest if you did not leave the city. In the meantime, if you wish to fill out a missing persons report for Miss Frank, the sergeant can help you downstairs.”

  It was an obvious dismissal.

  Doc took his leave and led his associates back to the elevator. There was no point filing a missing persons report. All the police would do was call the FBI and Hoover’s boys were more likely to make things worse than better. If Vic couldn’t free herself, it would be all up to Doc and the team.

  #

  Vic’s head ached and her mouth tasted like it had been stuffed with cotton balls. Chloroform. Damnit she’d been chloroformed again. Doc and Gus never got chloroformed, noooo, not them. It was always her. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. Doc had been chloroformed, too; but never when they were all together. He always got chloroformed on his own. Realizing her mind was wandering, Vic tried to slap herself, only to come up short as she realized she was bound against a wall.

  “Good, you’re awake.” Schmidt’s voice penetrated the fog in her head.

  She opened her eyes to see the Nazi standing in front of her, his head dangling to one side. It was barely connected, making her wonder if a strong wind would send it flying.

  “That looks painful,” she managed to say. “Next time I need to remind Gus to rip your head clean off.”

  “Very funny, Fräulein.”

  “I try.” Vic tried to shrug but she was bound too tightly to do more than wriggle a little. At least it felt like rope, so maybe there was a chance. “So, what do you want to do with me?”

  “Nothing, nothing at all.”

  “Seems like you went to a lot of trouble to kidnap me if you didn’t want to do anything with me. Are you one of those who just likes to watch?”

  Schmidt leered. With his head hanging over one shoulder it was easily the creepiest leer Vic had ever seen. “Just because I didn’t want anything, doesn’t mean my Master doesn’t.”

  “Your Master? Don’t you Nazi types have a Führer?” Vic controlled herself enough not to spit the words; better to direct her anger against her bonds.

  “That was before I died.” Schmidt reached up and set his head straight on his neck. “When the Eldest Flame touched me I became His. I could see the Führer for what he truly is, a pale imitation of the Eldest Flame.”

  His eyes glowed redly, and Vic was sure she could see stark terror behind the glow. Schmidt was no ordinary zombie. Vic had no idea what he actually was, but she was sure he was the one person she least wanted to be tied up in a room with right now. Even a wild gorilla would have been better.

  Schmidt fell silent, and turned away from her, moving jerkily more like a puppet than a man. Vic followed him with her eyes to a small brazier that stood in the corner. Schmidt reached out and grabbed what Vic thought was a poker, stirring the coals. Lifting it out of the brazier, he revealed its true nature: it was a branding iron!

  The stylized flame on the end glowed red hot from the brazier, and Schmidt muttered to himself in German as he examined it. Finally, he thrust it deep into the coals and turned back to Vic. “Once you bear the Master’s mark above your heart, you will truly belong to Him.

  “You will be the tool that brings your leader home to the Congo.” Schmidt cackled like a movie hag. “Once the Master has the Moon Key he will truly rule the world, and you will forever remember your part in His victory.”

  Vic shivered, she couldn’t dwell on his rantings; this maniac was going to burn her. Grinding her teeth, she twisted feverishly at the the ropes that held her.

  Ignoring her expression, Schmidt approached and ripped the front of her blouse, exposing her undergarments. Vic squirmed and tried to pull away but the bindings held her tight. The ropes on her right wrist started to give and Vic redoubled her efforts. She was not going to let this puppetized zombie turn her into some kind of slave. The rope burned against her wrist, but she gritted her teeth and kept going.

  Something caught her captor’s attention; Schmidt turned away and lurched back toward the brazier. Taking advantage of his distraction, Vic squeezed her hand as small as she could make it and pulled until it felt like her arm was going to come out of its socket. Amazingly, Schmidt didn’t react to her struggles.

  From the way he was moving, Vic doubted he was really in control of his own movements. He seemed more like a passenger in his own body. Vic shrugged, wincing at the pain from her right shoulder. It didn’t matter if he was a self-aware zombie or some kind of puppet. Either one could kill her if she didn’t escape.

  Schmidt turned back to her, the brand glowing in his hand. Something in the white-hot shape drew her attention and she couldn’t take her eyes off it. The air wavered around the flame, and even from across the room she could feel the heat on her chest. With an effort of will she pulled her attention away from the brand, focusing on how Schmidt’s head looked balanced on his broken neck. His eyes blazed red, seeming to draw energy from the heated brand.

  Ignoring the pain, Vic ripped her hand out of the bindings.
The hemp rope scratched her skin, but she didn’t care: her hand was free.

  Schmidt lunged forward, driving the brand toward her chest. Without thinking she caught the hot steel in her right hand. The pain was intense, and she almost blacked out as the smell of burning flesh rose from her palm, but she kept enough presence of mind to deflect the iron onto the ropes that held her left hand. The rope caught fire and she pulled free, putting her whole body behind a left handed punch. Her fist caught Schmidt in the side of the head, knocking it off his shoulders.

  Immediately, the body dropped the iron and started feeling around on the floor for its missing head. Fighting the urge to vomit, Vic ran for the door. Her right hand was curled into a useless claw, but her left was only slightly singed from where the brand had burned away the ropes.

  The door wasn’t locked, and Vic found herself in an unfinished basement with a packed earth floor. Small windows gave enough light for her to find her way to the stairs, and she hurried up them. Again, the door at the top wasn’t locked and she let herself into the lobby of a brownstone. An old woman opened her door, saw Vic and crossed herself before backing into her apartment and slamming the door. Vic heard half a dozen locks clicking as she passed the door. So much for using the phone. She consoled herself with the thought that maybe the woman didn’t have one. Her apartment probably smelled of stale cooking anyway.

  Holding her blouse closed with her right wrist, Vic pushed out into the afternoon sunlight.

  #

  “Vic’s on her way.” Doc announced to the room.

  “What happened?” Gilly poked his head up from his research, developer dripping from his rubber gloves.

  “Schmidt had her as we suspected, but she was able to break free and escape.” Doc smiled. “It takes more than an undead Nazi to hold Vic.”

  “She gets captured often enough, she should be an escape artist,” Gus said, stripping off his surgical coat. “I finished the autopsy; it appears that our intrepid friend hadn’t had anything more than tea in the last week.”