The Age Atomic

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.

The Corsair stepped forward, forcing Rad and Jennifer against the edge of Jennifer’s slab. Behind his back, Rad felt for the bar he’d used to pry the machine open.

“So you gonna tell us who you are,” asked Rad, “or is that a mystery we’ll just have to live with when we’re far away downtown, until we see your mug shot in the newspaper next week?”

The Corsair stopped, and looked at Jennifer. He hissed, like he’d just realized something, or was surprised.

“What?” Rad asked, glancing at Jennifer.

Jennifer took a step forward.

“Now, wait a minute,” said Rad. His fingers pulled the metal bar closer until he could get a proper grip on it.

“She hasn’t told you, has she?” said the Corsair. There was amusement in his voice. There seemed to be something about power-mad loons in masks that made them a little too pleased with themselves for Rad’s liking.

“Kane, you listening to this?”

“Sure am,” came Kane’s voice from behind his machine. “Wish I could see the show. Sounds like fun.”

“Uh-huh,” said Rad. “Might have to do something about that.”

The Corsair chuckled. “Mr Fortuna can’t leave the machine.”

Rad snorted. “That a fact?”

“It is.”

“He’s right,” said Jennifer. “You know that, Rad.”

Rad’s eyes flicked between her and the Corsair. “Oh, you’re on his side now?”

“Of course not. But we can’t take Kane with us.”

Rad’s fingers wrapped around the bar. He adjusted his footing.

“We gotta get past this guy first, anyway,” said Rad, nodding at the Corsair. “Nice trick, pretending to be a robot, while the real robot does the meet and greet. Can’t imagine you get a lot of guests around these parts, so why so much trouble for the double act? But, hey, each man and robot to his own.”

The Corsair clenched his fists. “Anybody ever tell you that you talk too much, Mr Bradley?”

“A talkative detective is gonna be the least of your problems in a minute.”

The Corsair shook his head. “You cannot leave,” he said, moving forward quickly. Rad braced himself, hoping Kane had gotten the message. The metal rod slid in his sweaty hands. A lot depended on him getting this right.

“Stop!”

Jennifer stepped between the Corsair and Rad. The Corsair backed away. Rad didn’t move; he was too busy trying to hold the bar still.

Jennifer turned to Rad. “He’ll let us go,” she said. She turned to the Corsair. “Won’t you?”

Rad saw his chance. He let out his breath, nice and slow, and took another in.

“Hey, Kane,” he said.

“Waiting on you,” Kane replied.

Rad darted to one side, swinging the metal rod out from behind him. Jennifer ducked out of the way, and Rad saw the Corsair hesitate, uncertain. Rad really hoped the Skyguard’s suit was working, because the fact that the Corsair hadn’t sucker-punched him already was a little worrying, and what he was about to do might kill them all.

Rad ran to Kane’s machine, jamming the bar with both hands into the seam around the lid. The rod slipped, and Rad’s heart skipped a beat before the rod caught on something and stopped; Rad pushed, pushed as hard as he could, and the rod slipped through the gap. There was a click as a catch was snapped open. Then, with a yell, Rad pulled down on the rod with all his might. His cry of desperation continued long after the rod slipped free and hit the floor, Rad’s chin connecting with the slab as he hit the deck.

Rad looked at the floor, which was suddenly illuminated in a brilliant white and blue light. Rad felt his eyeballs trying to drill themselves out of their sockets as a pressure settled on the back of his skull, a headache from hell.

Rad screwed his eyes tight and wished he was dead, but he knew the feeling would pass and everything would be fine, everything would be OK, so long as Kane could control it. Control the power inside him.

Rad rolled onto his back in time to see Kane pull himself up out of the machine — he was nothing more than a hot white outline, a walking flame, incandescent tendrils of energy streaming off him and whipping around the workshop, around the machine and the table, around Jennifer and around the Corsair.

“Jennifer,” Rad shouted, unsure whether his voice could be heard over the roar of the unleashed Fissure. He saw her jerk as he called her name, her metal face searching, unable to see. From his shadowed position by the table, Rad jerked forward and grabbed her arm, pulling her down on top of him. She fell, blocking the light, and Rad felt an instant relief from the buzz-saw vibration in his skull.

“Hey, Corsair,” said Kane, a million miles away. “You got something that belongs to me.”