Super City Cops --Undercover Blues Read online

  Contents

  Cover

  Super City Cops – the Series

  About this Book

  About the Author

  Titlepage

  Copyright

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  Preview

  Super City Cops – the Series

  The great metropolis of Super City is the home of dozens of costumed heroes – the Terrific Trio, the Bruiser, the Superior Six, the Cowboy, and many more – who do battle against the super-villains who terrorize the citizenry.

  These aren’t their stories …

  When the heroes are done punching out the villains, it’s left to the stalwart men and women of the Super City Police Department to restrain them, arrest them, and hope that this time there’s enough evidence to actually convict them.

  Just another day on the job for the Super City Cops.

  About this Book

  Detective Elias Vondelikos has spent months working undercover to infiltrate the organization of Apollo, one of Super City’s most dangerous and insane supervillains. But working for crazy bad guy has its risks, and the job the undercover cop was hired for turns vicious in a hurry.

  Meanwhile, Detectives Kristin Milewski and Jorge Alvarado follow a trail of dead bodies left by the new Amethyst – whose methods are far more brutal than the average superhero, and whose true identity will rock the SCPD to its core!

  A new case for the Super City Police Department!

  About the Author

  Keith R. A. DeCandido is the author of more than fifty novels, almost a hundred short stories, plus bunches of comic books, blog entries, reviews, and other stuff. He’s written in more than two dozen licensed as well as several worlds of his own devising. Keith is also an editor, a reviewer of TV shows, a second-degree black belt in karate, a professional percussionist, a veteran podcaster, an avid baseball fan, and probably some other stuff that he can’t remember due to the lack of sleep.

  Keith R. A. DeCandido

  Undercover Blues

  “be” by BASTEI ENTERTAINMENT

  Digital original edition

  “be” by Bastei Entertainment is an imprint of Bastei Lübbe AG

  Copyright © 2017 by Bastei Lübbe AG, Schanzenstraße 6-20, 51063 Cologne, Germany

  Written by Keith R. A. DeCandido

  Published in agreement with the author, c/o The Knight Agency, 570 East Avenue, Madison, GA 30650 USA

  Cover illustration: © Guter Punkt, München | www.guter-punkt.de unter Verwendung von thinkstock/OlegUsmanov; thinkstock/marigold_88; getty-images/franckreporter; thinkstock/d1sk

  Cover design: Guter Punkt, München | www.guter-punkt.de

  eBook production: hanseatenSatz-bremen, Bremen

  ISBN 978-3-7325-3353-4

  www.be-ebooks.com

  CHAPTER 1

  David Bandaloukas didn’t look up when the person coming the other way down the 19th Street sidewalk said, “Hey, lookit!” while staring skyward and pointing.

  Had to be someone new to Super City. The ones like David, who’d lived here all their lives, never looked up anymore. Flying people in costumes were just too damned common. If you gazed upward every time someone flew overhead, you’d get a cricked neck.

  As he passed the person – a black guy walking with a Latina woman – David heard him say, “Was that Flame?”

  The woman said, “I think so. Looked all fiery and shit.”

  David shook his head as he entered Vic and Al’s Pub.

  His eyes slowly adjusting to the much dimmer light of the bar’s interior, he scanned the place for his appointment. But there was no sign of the other man.

  Pulling his flip-phone out of his pocket, David saw that it was still ten minutes before the time he was supposed to meet with Phil Spiros. Since he had time to kill, and he saw that a game of eight-ball was just finishing up at the pool table, he went to the bar.

  Vic was behind the bar, and upon seeing David, she actually let a smile onto her sour, wrinkled face. “Well well well, if it ain’t Bandy. How you doin’?”

  “Well, I still hate being called Bandy.” He grinned. “But otherwise, good. I’m meeting a friend here.”

  “Since when do you have friends?” She grinned right back. “Damn, it’s good to see you. Been too long. Still a bourbon drinker?”

  David nodded. “And four quarters for the pool table?”

  Vic pointed a hooked finger at him. “Hey, I don’t want any hustling in my place.”

  “It’s not hustling,” David said seriously. Then the grin came back. “It’s educating.”

  Vic shook her head and limped over to where the bourbon bottles were.

  Wincing, David said, “You still haven’t gotten a better prosthetic leg?”

  “I’m fine with this one,” Vic muttered.

  David said nothing in response. When he used to come here regularly, back when he ran with Devil Ray’s gang, he argued with Vic all the time that she needed to get a better artificial leg. She’d gotten a cut-rate prosthetic after her real leg had been blown off during her brief career as a super-villain – which had been only slightly longer than her career as a superhero.

  The door opened just as Vic handed him his drink and four quarters. Turning, David saw the wiry form of Phil Spiros enter. Spiros had one of those faces that could pass for twenty-five or for fifty. The gray in his hair meant fifty was more likely. He wore a denim jacket, jeans, and a plain black T-shirt.

  “My date’s here,” David said to Vic.

  “So you won’t be needing the quarters?” she asked sardonically.

  “Gotta do something after my meeting.” David pocketed the quarters in his windbreaker and took a slug of his bourbon.

  Spiros walked up to the bar and offered a hand. “Good to see you, David. I’m not late, am I?”

  “Right on time. What are you drinking?”

  “Beer. Whatever’s on tap is fine.”

  “Vic, a pint of SC Lager for my friend here. We’ll be at the corner table.”

  “You got it, Bandy,” Vic said as she limped over to get a pint glass.

  Spiros stared at David. “Bandy?”

  “Phil, I say this with all due respect, that if you ever call me Bandy, they will never find your body. Am I understood?”

  At that, Spiros finally smiled. He’d looked constipated since he walked in. “You got it, David.”

  “Good man.” They sat at the rickety wooden table in the far corner of the bar. It had always been David’s preferred seat when he’d come here in the old days, as it had a good view of both the front door and the back entrance to the kitchen and bathrooms. Devil Ray had a lot of enemies on both sides of the law back then, which was why he hadn’t been in prison for five minutes after the Cowboy captured him before he got himself shivved.

  It was best to be careful.

  Spiros glanced around as he sat down. “I never been here before. Vic and Al, though – weren’t they bad guys back in the eighties?”

  David nodded. “Yeah, they actually started out as heroes, dressed like Queen Victoria and Prince Albert, but it turned out to be a big con game. Vic and Al were actually Gina and Freddie Cassal
owitz from Teaneck, New Jersey. They were grifters, and pretty damn good ones. They worked New York City for a while, then came here and tried to be superheroes as a cover for a museum heist. Almost worked, too, till Old Glory got ’em.”

  “There was an Old Glory in the eighties?” Spiros asked as Vic limped over with his beer. “Thank you,” he absently said to her, then took a sip before continuing. “Thought there was just the one during World War II and the one after 9/11 before the lady who’s doing it now.”

  Shaking his head, David said, “There were a couple more, including one in the eighties and nineties. Anyhow, they did some time for that, then they tried being costumed bad guys. Worked for about a year before they went up against the Commie Killer.”

  “That nut job? Surprised he didn’t kill them.”

  “He did kill Al. Blew Vic’s leg off. They actually had some money left from their old jobs in New York, so she used it to open the bar after the trial. She was acquitted, since they hadn’t actually committed any crimes when Commie Killer attacked.”

  “That’s fucked up.” He winced. “Sorry! Pardon my language, I just–”

  David waved him off. “In this place? No one’s gonna notice or care. But Apollo will, so keep it PG when you meet with him.”

  As David watched, Spiros’s face slowly changed as the actual words David said registered. “He’s agreed to meet with me?”

  “Yup. He’s got a new job coming up, so he’s recruiting again. I told you just to be patient.”

  “Easy for you to say,” Spiros said bitterly as he took another long gulp of his beer. “I mean, I’m still in the halfway house, so it’s hard to find work.” A panicked look, then: “Me being in the halfway house won’t fu – er, mess up the job, will it?”

  “Please.” David took a sip of bourbon. “If Apollo left out parolees in halfway houses, he’d never hire anyone.”

  “Yeah.” Spiros gulped down some more beer. “Seriously, though, this is great. I’m sick of eating ramen. I feel like a fu – like a damn college student.”

  “Well, you don’t have the job yet. Gotta get through the interview, but between you, me, and the jukebox, I think you got a good shot. You worked for Arachnos and the Osmium Obliterator, and you did time for larceny. Those are pretty good references for this type of work.”

  Spiros chuckled. “Okay. Where and when?”

  “Tomorrow morning at ten at Steinberg’s. You know the place?”

  “I think so.” Spiros frowned. “Over in Wilsonville, right?”

  “Yeah, on 118th between Gaines and Spencer. Go to the second floor. And when I introduce you to him, bow, okay?”

  “Uh, all right.” Spiros sounded confused.

  Holding up both hands, David said, “Just trust me. He wanted the meet to be tonight, but I figured you couldn’t finagle getting out of the halfway house on that kinda notice.”

  “Thank you,” Spiros said emphatically, then gulped down the rest of his beer. “Speaking of that, I’d better get back before curfew. How much I owe you for the beer?”

  David waved a hand. “Forget it. If you get the job, buy me one.”

  Spiros smiled. He had a lot less flop sweat than he had when he first came in. “Thanks a lot, David, I really appreciate it.”

  “Hey, us Greeks gotta stick together. See you tomorrow.”

  “You bet.”

  Spiros headed for the exit. David chuckled as he watched him go.

  Then he took a final sip of his bourbon before walking over to the pool table.

  Business was done. Time for some pleasure.

  ***

  The next morning, David arrived just before ten at Steinberg’s. Where Vic and Al’s was a classy bar that had the feel of a British pub – there were even images of Queen Victoria and Prince Albert on the sign out front – Steinberg’s was a full-on dive.

  The lights inside were even dimmer than they had been in Vic and Al’s. That suited David fine, as the floor hadn’t been swept or scrubbed since the Nixon Administration. Most of the clientele were hardened criminals, many with powers or enhancements – super-villains, basically – some in costume, some not.

  David knew better than to make direct eye contact with any of them, or even to look anywhere but straight ahead, though he did see that Incisor was sitting on a stool at a high table near the back. It was impossible to mistake his tooth-covered costume. David wondered how the man could sit comfortably in that thing.

  Steinberg’s had a second floor that the clientele often used for meetings and such. Apollo had reserved it for today.

  Sure enough, David climbed the creaky wooden staircase to find a tall, muscular man standing in the middle of the room. He had flowing, curly blond hair, and was wearing a toga.

  David might have had a negative comment to make about a man going around in public looking like that, but his last boss dressed up like a fish.

  “Good tidings of the day to you, Mr. Bandaloukas!”

  “Hi,” David said.

  “Where is my prospective new subject?”

  “Should be here any minute.”

  “Excellent!”

  Sure enough, Spiros arrived a minute later. “I’m not late, am I?”

  “Not in the least, good sir, you are prompt, which is a characteristic that is valued among my subjects!” Apollo then gave David a look.

  Nodding, David said, “Apollo, may I introduce you to Philip T. Spiros, who wishes to be given the singular honor of being one of your subjects.”

  Spiros said nothing, but simply bowed from the waist. It was a deep bow, too. David smiled with appreciation.

  “Good tidings of the day to you, Mr. Spiros! Do you find the weather today to be agreeable?”

  Glancing back at the staircase, Spiros said, “It’s nice, yes. Very sunny, but not too hot.”

  “Indeed, I did inform the sun to burn bright but not hot this day! I thought it an auspicious clime in which to conduct our discussion! Please, be you seated, and we will talk of what I expect from you if you are to become fortunate enough to be counted among my subjects!”

  David grabbed Spiros’s arm before he could move to sit down. Spiros shot him a look, and David just shook his head.

  Apollo moved to a small round table and took a seat at one of the four wooden chairs around it. After he sat down, David let go of Spiros’s arm and nodded.

  Spiros sat, and David went off to stand near the staircase to make sure no one tried to interrupt.

  “Speak to me of why you should be deemed worthy of this great honor!”

  “Well,” Spiros said after swallowing a bit nervously, “I did some work for the Osmium Obliterator when he first came on the scene about a decade ago. See, he needed parts, and I was driving a truck for a machine shop, so he paid me to let a few materials drop off my truck, if you know what I mean. After I got popped, I did two years on Ellis.”

  “Ah, so you have been imprisoned by what is laughably referred to as the justice system!”

  “Uh, yeah.” Spiros shot a glance at David, perhaps worried that having served at Ellis Penitentiary was a detriment, but David held up a reassuring hand and nodded.

  Apollo shook his head sadly, his blond locks bouncing with the action. “The lawmakers of Athens would be aghast were they to encounter so fallacious a judiciary as what you have in this era! It is to weep!” He then fixed his blue-eyed gaze back on Spiros, who flinched. “Forgive me, Mr. Spiros, there is much of this modern world I find tedious and deplorable! Continue your recitation, if you please!”

  “Um, well, after I made parole, the Obliterator hired me to drive a truck for him. He had his headquarters up in Igle’s Point and I’d take stuff back and forth from there to Super City. Then the Terrific Trio put him away, and I got hired by Arachnos as a driver – with that eight-legged costume, he can’t really fit in a car, so he
needs someone to take him around.”

  “You are no longer in the employ of either of those gentlemen, then, Mr. Spiros?”

  Shaking his head, Spiros said, “No, they’re both out of commission. The Obliterator got trashed by that new Amethyst, and Arachnos was popped for the murder of the last Amethyst, so I’m kinda nowhere. I’m a parolee, nobody wants to hire me for anything legit. David said you might be able to hook me up.”

  “I believe that Mr. Bandaloukas’s assessment of the intersections of my needs and yours is accurate! But before we delve into such heady waters, let us dispense with other more critical matters! Speak to me of your lineage, Mr. Spiros! Your family name and facial coloring bespeak Mediterranean heritage! May I assume that they do not mislead and that you do trace your ancestry to the Isles of Hellas?”

  Again, Spiros glanced back at David for a moment. “Um, well, if you’re asking if I’m Greek, the answer is yes.”

  “Superlative! While all are welcome to be my subjects, for I am a kind and benevolent god who would be loath to turn away any who would take up my mantle, I have an affinity for those of my homeland!”

  “Well, yeah, my, uh, my grandparents were all immigrants.”

  “Truly? Excellent! From whence came they?”

  “Uh, well, I don’t know about my mother’s side – they died before I was born, and Mom never really talked about them much – but I do know they got married in Greece and then came here together after World War II and had Mom after they settled in D.C. On Dad’s side, though, Grandpa came over here to Super City before the war as a kid, and he lived in Little Athens over in Leesfield. He opened up a diner when he grew up, and when Grandma came over in the late fifties, she went to the diner because she could order her food in Greek. They got married a year later.”

  David smiled. He had considered warning Spiros about Apollo’s obsession with Greece – beyond what was obvious – but he figured it would be better for him not to sound too rehearsed when he gave his family history.

  That turned out to be the right instinct, as Apollo’s grin grew a mile wide upon hearing Spiros’s genealogical litany. “Magnificent! Truly you will make a fine addition to my subjects! And your experiences as a chariot-driver will truly prove efficacious in our next endeavor!”