“You did.”
PA seemed to run out of steam. She flopped onto one of the couches. “Dammit, SC, I told you to stay in costume while on duty out there.”
“You don’t wear a mask.”
“I don’t need to.”
Jack peered along her length. “How do you hide seven feet?”
“As I mentioned once before, you’d be surprised. I look completely different in my Sunday best. No one would have a hope of recognizing me. But you — with those golden locks and the perfectly chiselled chin — people will finger you straight off the bat.”
Her partner carefully sat on a stool next to the coffee table. He focused on the death masks up on the walls and felt like they were laughing at him.
He was guessing the big reveal had happened at the Museum of Antiquities, when he’d removed his mask after the explosion that ripped Sinistro in half. Alternatively, it was the doing of that cop Kahn. Or Gypsie-Ann? She worked for the Patriot. Jack’d definitely been liberal in his many reveals — aside from showing anything substantial to Louise, who mattered most.
“Look, I’m sorry.” Jack shook his head. “I wasn’t thinking. I took off the mask after a man was blown up right there in front of me. Yes, it was a stupid thing to do. I’m new at this.”
“Sinistro wasn’t a man, he was a shade.”
“Same end result.” He glanced at her. “So what happens now?”
“The powers-that-be—”
“The mayor?”
“Course not. That man’s a nobody. The real powers — the leaders of the Capes and the Rotters — would usually get together with Donald Wright and one of the four other Chief Justices to hash out the misdemeanour. They’d decide whether you stay or go. In the past, this kind of thing always resulted in expulsion, and it’s not going to help your case that you clipped Black Owl’s wings and the Great White Hope is dead.”
“They’ll expel me?”
“I don’t know. Probably.”
“So what do I do in the meantime?”
“There’s nothing to do. You’re suspended.”
Pretty Amazonia grabbed back the newspaper from him and tossed it across the living space. Her anger then subsided and she slapped back down into the couch.
“Crap. The Brick and I talked about this. We tried to work out some way to salvage the situation, but rules are rules. All we can do is wait. Dammit.”
“Where is the Brick?”
The woman nodded her head in the direction of the next floor. “In his room, brooding. He’s overly fond of you. God knows why.”
#143
Jack was all prepared to rap on the entrance to the Brick’s private quarters — one part of Equalizers HQ where he’d never before set a single toe — when he became aware of music drifting from within.
The same score he’d heard at the Satori Dance Studio the other night.
Unsure why he again intruded on the man’s privacy, Jack pushed the door slightly ajar. The music came out of archaic Hallicrafters Model R-12 console speakers in each corner of the suite.
The Brick was hunched over on a big, reinforced couch, dabbing his eyes with a pale blue handkerchief that had a pink cherry-blossom design.
The seated man didn’t notice his partner’s intrusion, Jack felt like a fool, and he silently closed the door.
#144
When Jack popped into the bank an hour later, Louise closed off her till.
He thought she did that in order to dash out into the foyer and meet him, but after he’d been waiting twenty-five minutes, he realized she wasn’t coming.
So the man joined the queue to Mister Winkle’s window. Once he got there, the old coot smiled in wan fashion.
“Miss Starkwell refuses to see you, sonny.”
“I kind of realized that. But — if possible — I’d like to know why. Or talk with her.”
Mister Winkle looked past Jack to the next customer. “I’m sorry. I’m afraid that won’t be possible. We’re very busy today.”
“Look.” Leaning on the counter, Jack lowered his voice. “I don’t want to start a commotion. I just want to talk to Miss Starkwell — straight after that, I’ll be out of your hair and commotions will be a thing of the distant past. But if you refuse to let me see her, I promise you’ll have the mother of commotions on your hands.”
The old man leaned away. “Are you saying you won’t cause a ruckus?”
“You meet my terms? — Cross my heart.”
“Hope to die?”
“Sure,” Jack frowned, feeling like he was back on the playground, “if that makes you feel any better.”