Tales of the Red Panda: The Crime Cabal (8 page)

The giant on the left blinked once and brought his right arm across in
a sweeping gesture. It was clumsy and brutish but lightning fast, and it caught
the Red Panda off guard. He was thrown six feet through the air, only stopped
by the solid brick wall. He crumpled to the floor as the two giants closed in
on him.

Parker scrambled to his feet, grasping for his revolver where it had
fallen. It was plain the two behemoths meant to crush the masked man’s head in
as he lay dazed by the blow that would have killed an ordinary man.

Before Parker could raise his gun or react, he heard a yell coming from
the back of the shop. A battle cry. Rage and joy all balled into one, and
getting closer fast.

Parker’s hat was grazed off his head as she flew by, aided by the
gliders that gave her her name, and propelled by some unseen force as she leapt
from the top of the shelves behind him, streaking for the men who threatened
her partner.

Without more than a glance back, the nearest of the two giants plucked
her from mid-air and turned the force of her dive against her, slamming her
against the far wall with a sickening thud. Then they turned their attention
back to the still-dazed Red Panda as a third man walked slowly through the
space where the window had been. He was much smaller and slighter, but with the
same curiously blank expression as the two giants. The third man clutched his
trenchcoat around him, ignoring the melee in his midst.

Parker sprang to his feet and fired his service revolver twice, point
blank, at each of the lumbering men. They turned to him slowly. Parker blinked
in amazement – they were completely unharmed. Without thinking, he
emptied his revolver into the approaching forms with the same effect, or total
lack thereof. The two giants lurched towards Parker, as the third man made his
way slowly towards the centre of the room.

Parker looked around desperately for something to defend himself with.
If these two behemoths had shrugged off the blows of the masked heroes, Parker
couldn’t imagine what would have an effect.

An instant later he had his answer. From the floor, the Red Panda swept
forth in a roundhouse kick toward the nearest intruder. With clockwork
precision, he directed all of his force toward the big man’s leg, just below
the knee. There was a sickening crunch which made Parker cringe in spite of
himself. The man did not appear to feel the impact, but basic physics of the
situation made it impossible for him to stand on the shattered leg. The man
fell to the floor with a thud, swiping out at the still-prone mystery man as he
did so.

Parker looked up with a gasp. The second giant, seemingly unaware of
his companion’s plight, was now within striking range. He leapt back as best he
could, slamming into the racks of merchandise behind him. Andy Parker had run
out of room to run.

From nowhere, the girl in the grey catsuit backflipped through the air
and landed on top of the shelves behind him. She pulled a six-inch long
metallic strip from her belt and flipped it open into a star-shaped device with
a sound not unlike a sword being drawn. With keen precision she threw it just
over the shoulder of the man who stomped towards Andy Parker. For a second
Parker thought that she had missed her target. As he saw the throwing star
pierce the lead wire from the power box on the wall, he knew he was mistaken.

Sparks flew as the wires, crossed by the metal of the weapon, threw
forth a mighty electric current. The Flying Squirrel leapt, spinning as she
flew towards the man, and bringing her left foot through the space occupied by
his head with terrific force. The kick did not have much effect on the
seemingly invulnerable man, moving him back no more than a few inches, but with
the crippled form of his companion on the floor behind him, those few inches
were enough. The second man fell backwards, colliding directly with the metal
shield around the now-destroyed power box. The crossed wires pumped fiery death
into the second man, but while it caused him to twitch and even smoke, still he
did not fall or cry out.

She turned back towards Parker, but something drew her attention away
and forced her eyes to open wide in shock.

“Boss!” she cried, pointing behind Parker.

Andy Parker turned to look at the third man, who had now made his way
to the back of the shop near the gas lines. He had dropped the trenchcoat that
he had once clutched so tightly around his body to reveal a garish waistcoat
made entirely of explosives. The expression on the man’s face never changed as
he fumbled for what could only be a detonator.

Parker’s head reeled. He took two steps backwards by instinct without
looking, and with predictable results. As he crashed to the floor, he knew
there was no way he could escape the blast that the little man at the back of
the shop was about to unleash.

“Squirrel!” he heard the Red Panda call from near the front of the
shop.

“Hang on!” the girl’s voice called. Suddenly, she was beside Parker.
From the side of her belt she pulled a Grapple Gun, clipped a small device to
the end of the bolt and fired out the open space that had been the front of the
store. The bolt flew high across the broad avenue and disappeared on a rooftop
across the street. Parker tried to speak, but couldn’t.

“Squirrel!” her partner called again. Parker couldn’t bring himself to
look at the dazed little man with the bomb. She clipped the Grapple Gun to the
back of Parker’s belt.

“You owe me one, officer,” she said with a smile.

And before he knew what was happening, Parker felt himself pulled out
into the open space by a mighty force. He was hauled up by the grapple line
hooked to his belt, over the form of the Red Panda who was racing back towards
his partner, and thrust out into the night sky over the avenue. The young
officer lost sight of the store several times as he twisted uncontrollably
through the air, in a backwards race for safety. He was almost across the
street when the shop blew, sending tongues of flame high into the night sky. Of
the masked man and the fearless female, Parker could see no sign.

By the time the Flying Squirrel had sent Constable Parker to safety,
there had been no time left for her to reach the open space of the front
window. The Red Panda had thrown his boomerang to try and disarm the little man
– a desperate ploy, but one that had bought a few precious seconds. The
Red Panda had plucked her from the space on the floor formerly occupied by
Parker, tucked her close to his side and raced past the little man as he struggled
mechanically with the explosive. He turned his shoulder into the sturdy door at
the back of the shop and battered his way through.

Seconds later, when the shop burst forth in a fiery holocaust, the two
were just out of reach, racing up into the night sky suspended from his Grapple
Gun. She clung to him as they flew, knowing he could feel her heart pounding
against his chest, and wondering if he knew there was more than danger behind
it. They slammed into the side of the building across the alley. There had been
no time to take careful aim, or to brace for the impact.

“Are you all right?” he said when he had his wind back.

She looked up at him as they hung by the line, high above the inferno.

“Let’s go again,” she breathed.

Not far away, another form hung from a grapple line. Constable Parker
looked at the street five stories down and wondered which would be more
difficult – getting down from here, or explaining any of this to Chief
O’Mally.

Andy Parker sat in his darkened apartment, the icepack in his hands
pressed against his temples. The entire evening had seemed like a dream, and he
didn’t know at all what to make of it. There was little doubt in his mind that
Satchel Braun and his mysterious henchmen had entered the grocery store with murder
on their minds. It seemed just as certain that the shopkeeper, Mister
Northcott, would have gone up in flames with his shop were it not for the
intervention of the Red Panda and the Flying Squirrel. But given the
destruction that he had witnessed, there was little doubt in his mind that
Chief O’Mally was right about the need for leverage over these mysterious
figures.

He took the pack away from his temples and dropped it in the kitchen
sink. He looked down on the counter to his left. There, barely visible in the
light spilled from the neon sign across the street, was the Grapple Gun the
Flying Squirrel had used to pull him to safety. He looked at the device with
admiration, trying to understand its operation. He supposed that the department
had people qualified to study it. Perhaps even reverse engineer it to produce
more. He arched an eyebrow as he thought. It even seemed possible that within
this device there might be found some clue in its construction that could
provide the solution to his quest, and reveal the identities of the mysterious
figures. Parker paused at the thought that he might have emerged from this
seemingly disastrous outing victorious.

Somehow, it didn’t seem right.

To his way of thinking, if the motives of the masked vigilantes were
less than pure, they wouldn’t have bothered to save his life. To use the very
device they had achieved this with to uncover their secrets felt wrong. He
wondered if that was why he hadn’t remained at the scene once he’d got himself
free, hadn’t stayed to file a report as the fire crews pulled the charred body
of Satchel Braun from the wreckage of the shop, and those of his three
mysterious confederates. Or why he had just watched from the far rooftop to
make sure that those were the only bodies that were found. That the masked
heroes had got out in time.

His thoughts wandered again to the mysterious girl in grey. He was
trying awfully hard to remember his duty, to not act like a kid with a
schoolboy crush. But there was something haunting about her eyes, her voice.
And he certainly admired the way she had handled herself in a scrape. Those
goons had been serious customers, after all.

That, too, gave him pause. Those two gorillas had strength far beyond
that of ordinary men, to say nothing of the bullets they had shrugged off. And
the little man in the trenchcoat had blown himself to kingdom come to send a
message. Parker had never heard of such behavior in racketeers or their
victims. Why would the little man have done such a thing?

Parker turned and headed for a cupboard in his small sitting room.
Maybe a drink would clear his head. Maybe it would knock him right out. Either
option sounded good to Andy Parker. The only thing he was sure of was that this
case was bound to get still more complicated. Unless he turned in the Grapple
Gun. That could end his involvement in this crazy business at a stroke. Maybe
lock up a promotion.

“If I don’t turn it in, there’ll be trouble,” he thought. “I’d bet my
badge on it.”

The phrase was one he used quite often, but this time it gave him a
sudden start. His badge–! He slapped his pockets, knowing already that he
would not find the tin shield that identified him as one of Toronto’s Finest.

Parker groaned. He had no choice but to turn in the Grapple Gun and
come clean now. The investigators from the fire department would check every
inch of that wreckage, and they were sure to turn up his shield sooner or
later.

He sat down on his old sofa and stared at the glass in his hand.
Somehow he no longer wanted it. He felt his head nodding, and barely managed to
set down the glass before he fell asleep, exhausted.

He awoke with a start and a stiff neck. He blinked in the
semi-darkness. It was impossible to say how much time had passed. He rubbed his
forehead with the flat of his hand. What had awoken him? He thought he heard a
scuffling sound in the kitchen.

“Mice again,” he thought in disgust. Maybe he should get a cat.

He stood up and made his way into the kitchen, flicking on the electric
light as he did so. He blinked at its glare. A cool breeze washed over him. Had
he left that window open?

His gaze fell on the kitchen counter. The mysterious Grapple Gun was
gone! And in its place he saw his own badge, with a small card attached to it.
Parker snatched it up. The card bore the mark of a small ink stamp in the shape
of a paw print and claws. The mark of the Red Panda!

Andy Parker raced to the window in time to see a sleek, female shape
hanging in the sky, gliding as if suspended by nothing more than the beams of
the low-hanging moon. At that distance he couldn’t say for certain, but he
could have sworn he heard her laughing.

Kit Baxter practically skipped into the Crime Lab. It took her some
time to settle down after a normal evening’s activities as the Flying Squirrel,
but tonight her adrenaline was still racing, three hours after the explosion at
Northcott’s Grocery. She spotted the Red Panda at one of his workbenches
peering into the microscope. He did not look up as she approached.

“Get it?” he asked.

“Got it,” she said, putting the Grapple Gun down on the table.

“Good,” the Red Panda said, looking up at last with a half grin. “That
was quick thinking, saving that young policeman’s life, Kit. But that could
have been a little… complicated.” He started to turn back to the eyepiece.

“I think it already is,” she said, knowing it would turn his gaze back
to her.

“What makes you say that?” he said as he did exactly that.

“Well, think about it, Boss,” she began, plunking down on a stool and
resting her elbows on the table. “That wasn’t a detective’s badge. He’s a
Constable. A patrolman.”

“So why was he carrying it when out of uniform?” the Red Panda finished
her line of questioning for her.

“Right. To say nothing of the revolver.”

“It’s interesting.”

“And he was way out of his neighborhood, so he wasn’t heading home
after his shift.”

“Perhaps he was out for a stroll,” he said facetiously.

“A stroll? He was miles from home and he decided to pick up a few
things in a shop practically identical to the one across from his house?”

He smiled. “I grant you it seems less than likely. But given the rumors
of new crime in the area–”

She cut him off. “So the cops decided to send in a single flatfoot, in
plainclothes, from the wrong division…”

He laughed. “All right, you’ve sold me. He’s officially under
suspicion.”

“But of what? It doesn’t make any sense,” she said, plunking her cheeks
down to rest on her upturned hands.

“That’s the sort of thing we’re usually most suspicious of, isn’t it?”

“I guess so,” she said, blinking hard twice. “Whatcha lookin’ at?”

“Hmm?” he said, glancing back at the microscope. “Oh, an interesting
sample from the crime scene.”

“How’d you get a sample from the crime scene? The cops an’ the fire
department have it all locked down.” Her brows furrowed crossly.

“A little serendipity goes a long way,” he said. “Besides, as much as
I’d like to have samples of the explosive agent used, this is one thing the
police aren’t likely to find in the ashes.”

“What is it? And where did it come from?”

“It came from my right gauntlet.”

“What?” she said incredulously.

“I noticed a smear on my gauntlet that roughly corresponded with where
I had hit one of those bruisers,” he said seriously.

“And?” She wished he’d finish a sentence without prompting when she was
tired.

“Face paint. Foundation.”

She blinked. “You’re saying those two monsters were wearing
makeup
?”

“I really am.”

“But… that doesn’t even make sense.”

“It’s interesting, isn’t it? They made no effort to hide their faces,
and yet at least one of them, and possibly both, was wearing flesh colored
foundation makeup.”

“Flesh comes in lots of colors,” she reminded him.

“Ah, fair point,” he said. “But there are facial features beyond skin
color that denote different races, and I’d be prepared to swear that both of
those bruisers were Caucasian in origin.”

“So there must be something else to the makeup.”

“But there isn’t. It’s plain old, buy-it-at-any-drugstore, foundation
makeup.”

“So you’re saying two giant white guys were wearing makeup to look
like… two giant white guys.”

“In a nutshell,” he said turning back to the microscope.

“But Boss, why change the color of your skin to the same color it
already is? What’s the reason?”

“There isn’t one,” he said. “And therefore?”

“Their skin must have been a different color?” she said, feeling lost.

“Right.”

“But you just said–”

“I didn’t say I had it figured out,” he smiled. “I just said it was
interesting. So aside from our mysterious policeman, we have known criminals
working with bizarre, high-powered gorillas who wear face-paint, to say nothing
of suicide bombers. Quite a combination.”

She tried to make a remark, but spoiled it with a yawn.

“You ran out of steam in a hurry,” he said with a grin. “We should get
you home.”

“Sorry, Boss,” she said blinking. “The adrenaline finally quit, I
guess.”

“Want me to drive you?”

“I think a multi-vehicle pile-up is probably more excitement than I
need tonight. I’ll take the downtown tube and catch a taxicab.”

“Are you sure?” he asked. Kit shook her head a little. She was sure
there was a perfect line out there somewhere about walking her home. Something
that would give her a last little thrill and make him blush one more time for
good measure before retiring. But suddenly she was too tired to think of it.

“I’m sure. You’re gonna sleep at some point, right?”

“I promise,” he lied, and turned back to his lab work.