“Hey, Kane old buddy, hang in there,” said Rad.
“Machines… it’s her… it’s her… blue… her eyes are blue… her eyes are blue… cold and fire and cold and cold… machines… blue…”
Rad raised an eyebrow. Some kind of flashback to falling through the Fissure? Wouldn’t be a surprise. He’d been between universes twice himself, and that was shock enough.
But whatever Kane was dreaming about, Rad didn’t like the way he mentioned machines.
“Easy, buddy, easy,” said Rad, his voice a whisper, his eyes flicking up to the workshop door. Come on, you spooky son of a bitch, he thought. Come on with the damn green potion.
“Soon, soon, soon, soon…”
“Soon what?”
“Soon, soon…” Kane said, and said again, faster and faster.
Rad shook his head and looked up. Maybe Kane needed the green stuff after all. “Hey! Your majesty!” he yelled. “Get your ass in here with the medicine!”
“They’re marching… the machines are marching… she’s coming… no! No!” Kane shook his head violently. Rad grabbed Kane’s head between both hands and tried to keep it still, but Kane’s strength was surprising. Rad gritted his teeth, hoping this wasn’t some kind of seizure.
“No!” Kane cried out, so loud Rad flinched. “She’s coming, her machines are coming here… she’s going to end it all… they’ll destroy everything… everything!” Kane’s eyes snapped open, and he looked at Rad. Rad swore that he saw a light in the eyes of his friend, a distant blue and white spark dancing in his pupils, spinning like the stars, flaring like the Fissure that had once stood in the middle of the Battery.
“Soon,” said Kane, “they’re coming soon.”
“What? Who are? Kane, speak to me, buddy. What’s going to happen?”
Kane shuddered in Rad’s grip and then he blinked, licked his lips, and slumped. Rad realized that his whole body had been thrashing inside the machine.
“OK,” said the detective, sliding off the stool and pushing his fist into his open palm as he surveyed the laboratory again. Time was running out, fast. He had to get them out and find Jennifer. “Hang in there, buddy. I gotta do some thinking here.”
Kane muttered something, but when Rad looked at his friend he was asleep.
TWENTY-ONE
Twelve agents from Atoms for Peace had the machine at gunpoint, a dozen automatic pistols spaced evenly in a semicircle in Doctor X’s robotics laboratory. The doctor sagged inside the cage, nearly six pints of blood pooled on the cement around him. On the other side of the lab, the tall computer cabinet was covered with something red and black that was getting sticky as it dried.
Elektro stood in the middle of the circle of agents, his red eyes rolling around them, but the machine appeared to be patient. It was humming something fast and happy. The dozen agents knew they would need more than nine-millimeter ammunition to stop it.
Evelyn McHale floated into the circle of agents, one moment not there and the next there. Elektro’s eyes fixed on her blue form as the Ghost of Gotham drifted closer, and the robot stopped humming.
The Director regarded Elektro, tilting her head, her lips parted, like she was trying to read something in the machine. Elektro said nothing and remained still.
“You killed Farnsworth and Richardson,” said Evelyn, finally.
“Hi, boss,” said Elektro.
Evelyn floated to the door of the cage, but stopped just short of the threshold. She ignored the remains of Doctor X on the slab and instead seemed to be examining the edges of the cage door.
“I didn’t see this. It hadn’t happened.”
“Sorry about the mess,” said Elektro, its head spinning around to watch the Director. “But it’s OK, I’m good. I figured out where I went wrong. Third time’s the charm, right?”
“The cage. Isolation.” Evelyn floated backwards, her eyes fixed on the structure. “I understand.”
“Say, how about you and me cut a deal? Just imagine what we could do, huh? It’s enough to make the mind reel, boss. Ah, boss?”
The Director was now in front of Elektro. The robot’s head swiveled back to her as she reached out to touch the spinning red disc in the machine’s chest. Her fingers stopped an inch from the glass.
“You understand the principles of the fusor reactor?”
“More than that, lady,” said Elektro. “I got the damn thing working. Our old friend there was close but no cigar, as the saying goes. Hey, you got any cigarettes around here?”
The Director smiled and drifted backwards. “Agent Carter will give you his. Agent?”
Behind her, one of the agents twitched into life. He glanced sideways at his colleagues, then slowly lowered his weapon. He pulled a packet of Lucky Strikes from his jacket and handed them over.
“Much obliged,” said Elektro, flipping the pack open and extracting a cigarette. “Smoking’ll kill ya, but who wants to live forever, right?” His eyes flicked to Evelyn’s.
“With Doctor Farnsworth and his assistant dead, I need someone to complete work on the fusor reactors and prepare the army for war,” she said.
“Huh,” said Elektro, cigarette dangling from his metal jaw. “I can fix ‘em up but you’re gonna need a central reactor to time them all, give them a kick-start.”
“The structure is prepared. It just needs your adjustment.”
The Director smiled, and the end of Elektro’s cigarette flared blue. The robot took a drag and exhaled a cloud of smoke that went right through Evelyn’s body like it wasn’t there.
“Lady, you got yourself a deal. When do I start?”
TWENTY-TWO
The green door of the workshop shuddered once as it was unlocked, and swung open. In one hand the Corsair carried a tray supporting a pitcher of water and two other, smaller vessels, each containing a dark green liquid.
Rad frowned, realizing the “man in the suit” wasn’t the King. He’d hoped for an old fashioned escape — wait until the jailer arrived, then jump him. Simple, but effective. Only the jailer wasn’t the little man in the blue velvet suit, it was his robot, which Rad didn’t want to tackle. Time for plan B.
Rad stood. “About time.”
The Corsair swung the door closed and walked forward in silence. It placed the tray down on the bench nearest to the three slabs.
“You keeping us here forever?”
The robot released the tray and faced the detective, but made no sound.
“Tell the King I want to see him,” said Rad. The robot didn’t move but Rad ignored it, taking the pitcher of water from the tray and pouring himself a glass. The liquid was cool and refreshing, and just reminded Rad how hot it was in the underground workshop.
The Corsair jerked into life, taking one of the small vessels of green liquid and a long pipette from the tray. Filling the pipette, it moved to Kane. Rad backed away, clutching his own drink tightly.
“What is that stuff anyway?” Rad asked. The robot ignored him.
Kane opened his mouth and closed his eyes as the Corsair gently lowered the end of the pipette onto Kane’s tongue and squeezed the rubber bulb between two fingers. Kane seemed to stiffen as the medicine was dispensed, and Rad could smell the tang of battery acid.
“How’s it taste?” he asked Kane. Kane grimaced like he’d just taken a shot of something strong from under the counter of the cheapest dive in town.
“Pretty smooth,” he gasped. “Could do with a little more tonic.” He laughed, and quickly his laugh turned into a dry cough. He turned his head, and thick green saliva ran down his face from the corner of his mouth.
“You’re in a bad way, buddy,” said Rad. He looked at the tray, eyeing the second tiny bottle of green liquid. “Hey, Jeeves, you think I’m taking that and you’ve got another thing coming to you real quick.”
“Detective, you are indeed fighting fit, fighting it!”
Rad turned to find the King of 125th Street standing in the doorway of the workshop, hands deep in the pockets of his jacket.