“How much longer is this going to take?”
Miranda gripped the steering wheel and pulled herself forward. It really hurt her back driving in stop-and-go city traffic, but her son’s school wasn’t free. The man behind her could pay for it. He could pay for a month’s tuition with just the price of the new smart phone he furiously tapped with his thumbs.
She extended her hand out toward her dirty windshield, indicating the line of traffic in front of them.
“Gonna take as long as it takes,” she said.
“I have a meeting to make, a flight to catch and, basically, a million things to do that are not sitting in this traffic.” He said it without taking his eyes off the screen.
“I understand.”
“No doubt you also understand that the longer we sit on this bridge, the more money I owe you,” he commented.
You’re the one who called a cab, she thought—but she said, “No one works for free.”
He looked up from his phone, catching her eyes in the rear view mirror. “Honey, I bill at three hundred and forty-nine dollars per hour. I know all about not working for free.” His eyes dropped back down, dismissing her.
You just can’t get that one more dollar out of them, canya son? Miranda thought. The little bit of meanness made her feel better. Her fingers touched the knob on the radio, seeking something new to distract her. Looking down, she didn’t see the explosion that rocked the bridge underneath her taxi.
Miranda looked up in time to see the fireball that engulfed the cars in front of her. It rolled over her hood, blistering the paint as it did, turning her windshield into a blackened, bubbled mess.
* * *
The door to his office opened sharply, and Quentin Lance walked in. Oliver looked up, taking in his deputy mayor’s face, creased with anxiety.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“We have a situation,” Lance said. “Somebody just blew up part of the Star City Bridge.”
Faust, Oliver thought.
“Give me the details,” he said.
“First responders on scene, and more on the way. As far as we can tell, the bridge is still structurally sound, and not in danger of collapsing. Every indication so far is that it was all smoke and flame. Early reports have injuries—mostly from the panic of drivers hitting other cars—but no deaths.”
“So this is a way of getting our attention.”
Lance nodded grimly. “If I were a betting man, and I am a betting man, I’d put money on it.”
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
“As mayor? Yes. As the other guy? No, not yet.” Lance leaned forward. “The city needs a voice of comfort, and a show of leadership.”
Oliver nodded. He often thought of being the Green Arrow as doing night work. Yes, they could—and did—operate during the day, but this would be too exposed. It wasn’t like the attack on Dearden Tower, where they needed to pitch in with search-and-rescue. Here the sight of costumes would just be a distraction. If the bridge was sound, he would leave the police and others to do their jobs.
Standing, he squared his shoulders and buttoned his suit jacket.
“Let’s go to work,” he said.
* * *
Outside his office stood a short, dark man holding a wide white envelope. One word was written on it, in thick green sharpie.
Queen
Oliver and Lance stopped short.
“Can I help you?” Lance asked.
“Are you Mayor Queen?” the man asked.
“Yeah, this isn’t a good time, pal.” Quentin moved to put the man aside. “We’re a little busy.”
“I stay here until I give this to the mayor.”
Oliver stepped forward. “I’m Mayor Queen.”
The man looked at Oliver, nodded, and held out the package.
“Who is it from?” Lance asked.
The man shook his head. “No idea. It was prepaid over the internet, then delivered to us with proof of payment. I was told to deliver it here, precisely at this time.” He raised his hands. “That’s all I know.”
“Thank you for the information.” Oliver tilted his head toward Lance. “We’ll have our team look into it.”
“Don’t bother.” The man raised his hands. “I don’t have anything to hide, but I don’t want anyone looking into me.”
“Not your choice, pal.” Lance put his hand on the man’s shoulder.
Without waiting, Oliver tore open the envelope and looked inside. There he found a flash drive, with the crude symbol for fire imprinted on the side.