Joe, Dig, and Dinah pored over data purloined from Star City hotels and home shares, looking for anything that might lead them to Ambush Bug. They weren’t foolish enough to hope that he’d registered under his actual name, but, as Joe said, “I’ve seen criminals do stupider things.”
There were more than eight hundred hotels in Star City, more than two hundred of which met their criteria for “swanky.” And then there were something like four thousand home rentals in the right price range for someone looking to impress the sort of rich blackguards who would buy some deadly, stolen robot bees.
Deadly, stolen robot bees. Joe still couldn’t believe this was the world he lived in.
His eyes were bloodshot as he continued skimming the rental and hotel listings. Exactly what they hoped to find, none of them knew for certain. They just studied each listing, hoping that something would jump out at them as being related to Irwin Schwab.
“What about this one?” Dinah held out her tablet to the other two. “Zenobia Irwin. Booked two nights at the Star City Plaza Hotel.”
“Could be,” Joe said.
“Put it on the list,” Dig said.
She added the name to a meager list they’d cobbled together thus far. Wild Dog was in the field, working his way down the hotels as they sent him updates.
“Hello, hello!” said a familiar voice.
Everyone looked up to see Felicity Smoak looming over them on the big screen. “I love seeing my worker bees hard at it!” she said. “Pun absolutely intended, BTW. That’s my thing now.”
“Felicity. Do you have something for us?” Dig’s voice, polite and restrained, echoed deeply in the cavernous space of the Bunker.
“Oh! Right!” She grinned. “I do. I put together an algorithm to crunch through every rental application, hotel reservation, and house share in Star City. It kicked back a lot, but one really stood out.”
“Give it to us.” Joe grabbed a pen and paper.
“You’re gonna love it.” Her grin widened.
“Just give it to us.” Hard and tight, Dinah’s tone left no room for further levity. She was ready for this nonsense to end.
“Fine, fine.” Deep breath, and then Felicity said, “One week ago, someone reserved a large suite at the Grand Starling Hotel on Kirby Street for three nights, beginning last night. The name on the reservation is . . . Are you ready for it?”
“Felicity!” All three of them yelled it.
“Wow, OK! Gee, can’t a girl enjoy the drama a little? The name on the reservation is Alphonse Michael Bush.”
They all got it in about two seconds, but Joe got there first. “A. M. Bush,” he said. “Unbelievable.”
“He made that reservation before the bees made him go crazy?” Dig asked. “Was this guy ever sane?”
“Like I said before: Criminals do stupid things.”
Dinah nodded a curt thanks at Felicity and stood. “Ping Wild Dog. Let’s move.”
The lobby of the Grand Starling Hotel redefined the word opulent. It stretched up three floors, the second and third ringed by balconies with clear glass balustrades and polished brass railings. Massive windows gave sunlight ingress from 360 degrees, and a truly enormous crystal chandelier hung from the distant ceiling, its teardrop stones glimmering in the light like stars dragged down from the heavens. Sumptuous couches and easy chairs upholstered in buttery, satiny brown leather completed the look, arranged around a fire roaring within a white marble fireplace that towered overhead and disappeared somewhere around the third floor.
Dressed in his civvies—black jeans and a dark gray hoodie that had seen better days—Rene Ramirez sauntered over to the others as they entered.
“Glad you all got here. Another minute and I think the manager was gonna throw me out for stinking up his classy joint.” He jerked his chin in the direction of an officious and offended-looking man in his late forties who wore a pristine black suit and tie. The man was fidgeting with a cell phone, turning it over and over in his hands.
“You’re up, Dinah,” Joe said. “It’s your town.”
Dinah hitched up her gun belt and strode over to the manager. As the three men watched, she flashed her Star City Police Department badge and ID. The manager did a double take and nodded hurriedly before dashing behind the registration desk. He returned in a moment, slipped something to Dinah, and then hustled off, the cell phone held to his ear.
Dinah strolled over to the guys, waving a key card. “I have the key to his room. Let’s go ambush Ambush.”
Dig and Joe stood on either side of the door to what they hoped would turn out to be Ambush Bug’s suite, their weapons drawn. Rene stood across the hall, his gun out and aimed at the door. Dinah leaned past Joe and waved the key card at the door. The lock clicked open.
Joe reached over with his free hand and slo-o-o-o-o-wly turned the doorknob, then pushed the door open. Nice hotel: The hinges didn’t squeak a peep.
Dig rolled his back along the doorjamb, gliding into the room with much more speed and grace than his big frame would imply. Rene followed, followed by Dinah, with Joe slipping in last and silently shutting the door.
Don’t know why I bothered. You do that so the perp can’t just run out the door, but this guy can teleport. Old habits die hard.
They fanned out. The suite was huge. They’d entered into a living room, which had a large picture window looking out onto the Star City skyline. Pristine white leather sofa. Two easy chairs. A glass coffee table edged in gold that Joe figured would cost at least a month’s pay. Before taxes.
He signaled to the others. There were four doors, all of them closed. They each took one.
Joe’s opened into a bathroom, as sumptuously appointed as the rest of the suite. Its occupant, though, had not been kind to it. Wet towels were heaped on the marble floor. A roll of toilet paper lay on the vanity, half unrolled down to the floor. A crushed tube of toothpaste bled sparkly green gel into the sink. Puddles of water lay on every surface, and the shower—which was bigger than the bedroom in Joe’s first apartment—drip-drip-dripped water from its waterfall showerhead.
Satisfied that there was nothing in here for him, Joe backed out, weapon still drawn. Dig was just emerging from his door, shaking his head. Nothing in there.
Rene leaned in his door and shrugged noncommittally.
That left Dinah. The three men converged in the middle of the living room. Just as they began making their way to Dinah’s door, her hand appeared there, gesturing them in.
They gathered there. Dinah stood just inside what they now saw was a bedroom. Bedroom might have been too small a word for it—if the bathroom here was bigger than Joe’s first bedroom, the bedroom was bigger than his first studio apartment altogether. In the center of it was an enormous California king bed that seemed to float in midair. The headboard rose to the ceiling. Curtains were drawn tightly across the windows, and an open door revealed a second bathroom.
Lying in the middle of the bed, curled in a ball, was Ambush Bug.
“He’s still wearing the suit?” Rene hissed.
Joe shot him a fierce Shut up! look. They didn’t want to wake the guy before they could get to him. Feeling at his belt, Joe located the Cisco Ramon–created S.T.A.R. Labs meta-dampening handcuffs. He hoped they would work on Ambush Bug’s weird combination of tech. If not, this would be the shortest arrest in history.
With a series of gestures, Joe indicated to everyone what he wanted them to do: Dig on one side of the bed, Rene at the foot, Dinah hanging back, ready to use her Canary Cry, if necessary. Joe himself would come up on the final side of the bed, behind Ambush Bug, and slap the cuffs on him.
Hopefully, it would work.
They settled into position. Joe realized he would need to lean on the bed in order to reach Ambush Bug’s wrists. Would doing that jostle him? Wake him?
Something else was bothering Joe, too. Something was off about all of this. Something was missing. It nagged at him. It . . .
It bugged him.
Across the bed, on the other side of Ambush Bug, Dig spread his arms wide with a What are you waiting for, man? expression on his face. Rene looked just as put out.
The bees, Joe mouthed.
After a second, it hit all of them: Where were Ambush Bug’s robot bees? Even with the dim light in the room, they should have been able to see some of them.
Shaking his head to dislodge the sudden worry, Joe silently slid his weapon into its holster and transferred the meta-dampening cuffs to his right hand.
That was when he heard the buzzing.
They all heard it. All four of them turned to look at the bathroom door, slightly ajar. Shadows flitted in there. Moving.
“Do it!” Dig whispered harshly.
Joe figured he had no choice; leaning forward, he planted one knee on the bed. Some part of him thought, Wow, this is really comfortable! But the rest of him could only focus on those green-sleeved wrists just before him.
The buzzing intensified. Joe moved forward farther, putting his other knee on the bed, and the cuffs slid onto Ambush Bug’s left wrist—
Pop!
The Bug was gone.
Pop!
“Behind you!” Dig yelled. Joe threw himself forward, flat on the bed, as Diggle fired his weapon.
Zing! Zing! Bullets zipped over Joe’s head.
Pop! Pop!
“Get him!” Dig yelled. “Get him!”
“Stand back!” Dinah shouted.
Joe rolled over. There were bullet holes in the wall near the bathroom door, a swarm of bees purling forth from where the door was open, but no Ambush Bug.
“Hey!” said a familiar voice. “Who’s that sleeping in my bed, Papa Bear?”
Joe shrieked and jumped up. Ambush Bug was right next to him!
“None of you look like Goldilocks!” the Bug shouted. “You’re doing it all wrong!”
Pop! He appeared up near the ceiling.
“No guns!” Joe cried. “Dinah!”
Dinah licked her lips and opened her mouth—
—pop!—
—and Ambush Bug appeared in front of her, shoving a hotel washcloth in her mouth. “Cleanliness is next to the Burger King on Fourth Avenue,” he said. “Mom always said that. Gosh, I miss her.”
He pop!ed away and they all stared at one another for a moment. Belatedly, Dinah pulled the washcloth out of her mouth.
“How did—”
Pop! He was back, this time right behind Rene, whom he grabbed with an arm around the throat, immobilizing his gun with his other hand.
“Shoot . . . him . . . !” Rene gasped.
“Tsk, tsk!” said the Bug. “You shouldn’t play with guns. Someone could get hurt. Maybe when you’re older and more mature.”
“Says the guy who sleeps in his whacked-out super-villain costume!” Dig taunted, trying to get a clear shot.
“Costume?” Ambush Bug frowned. The mask had gotten a little tighter on him—his facial expressions were visible through it. “This isn’t a costume, man. It’s my skin. It ain’t easy being green, you know. Just ask J’Onn J’Onzz. Or that Brainiac 5 kid. Although he’s really more a bluish color in this particular version, isn’t he? And even then, only when it’s in the budget that week.”
He wrestled Rene’s gun from his hand, then—
—pop! pop!—
—appeared at Joe’s side to grab his gun and then—
—pop! pop!—
—materialized at Dig’s side, swiping his gun—
—pop! pop!—
—and appeared next to Dinah. Who was ready for him. She’d drawn in a breath at his penultimate pop! and as soon as she saw Ambush Bug again, she screamed her Canary Cry.
Dig, Joe, and Rene clapped their hands over their ears, but they needn’t have worried—Dinah had focused her Cry right on Ambush Bug, and they weren’t in the cone of danger emanating forth from between her lips. But Ambush Bug was. The Cry swallowed his screech of agony, but his expression revealed all his pain. So powerful was the Cry that it actually lifted him bodily and tossed him across the room.
Dig dodged at the last second and Ambush Bug hurtled past him, colliding with the padded headboard and then crashing onto the bed.
He lay still as Dinah cut off the Canary Cry. The room suddenly seemed too loudly quiet.
“Is he dead?” Joe asked.
“Hope so,” Rene said, massaging his throat.
Dinah shook her head. “I doubt it. I didn’t hit him that hard.”
As though he had something to prove, Ambush Bug shakily sat up, twisting his neck this way and that. “Oh, wow,” he said, slouched against the headboard. “That was like acupuncture plus a lobotomy at the same time.” He tapped his skull with one finger.
“I feel better than ever! My head is so clear! Everything is so obvious!”
“Great,” Joe muttered. Their weapons were all on the bed, lying on the pillows around Ambush Bug. No way to get them without alerting him. He signaled to Dinah that she might need to zap the guy again.
“You know, gang, I gotta tell you—I know it was just to fulfill a plot point, but being stung almost to death by a swarm of bees is the best thing that ever happened to me! And I’m so happy about it that I want to share the wealth!”
“I don’t think I like the sound of that,” Dig warned. Dinah drew in a threatening breath.
“Everyone should have the powers I have!” Ambush Bug chortled. “Everyone should see the world the way I do! I’m gonna let loose a swarm of bees on the city, to deliver the good news in a million beestings!”
Pop!
He was gone from the room before anyone could move. Then, as they stood there in shock, the swarm of bees from the bathroom surged and squirted through the opening, soaring past Joe and Dig, headed for the window.
They hit the glass as a mass—any one or two or dozen bees would have splatted against the pane, but with so many of them hitting at once, the glass shattered and the cloud of robot bees exploded out into the Star City night.
“Was he serious?” Rene asked. “Is he gonna set those things loose on the whole city?”
“He’s never serious,” Dig said. “His whole gig is that he’s never serious.”
“I don’t know,” Joe said, crawling onto the bed to retrieve his service weapon. “He sounded different at the end there. I think Dinah’s yell might have shaken something loose.”
“Or shaken something back into place,” Dinah supplied.
“Yeah.” Joe ran a hand through his hair. “This is officially out of our bailiwick. Probably has been for a while. We need to call in some serious backup.”