The Secret Weapon
1957
Major Joshua Speed ripped the door of the warehouse off its hinges and tossed it aside like an old newspaper. Frowning, Speed scanned the place. The warehouse was piled high with crates. Finding Leopold was going to be a job. That Commie spy had probably hidden in a hole with the rest of the rats.
Speed blinked in the same space of time as he moved fifty yards to the center of the warehouse, surrounded by hundreds of crates. “Leopold! If I have to, I’ll tear this building apart. You and your comrades aren’t going to destroy this country. Don’t make this hard.”
A beam of light blinded Major Speed. He raised his arms and squeezed his hands into fists, firing his electric gloves. It was no good, the energy was dissipating. A spark flew from the left glove as it shorted out. Major Speed pushed down with his magnetic boots, but they wouldn’t stick to the floor.
He slammed into the side wall.
The shock spread through him like a tidal wave.
The energy pushed him into—into what? The side wall?
No, this wasn’t something solid. He was being shoved into nothing.
Major Speed flailed against the oncoming oblivion. He couldn’t feel his legs. He twisted until he couldn’t do that either.
He closed his eyes. “Christ have mercy.”
Big Ralph’s round bottom flowed over the edges of his stool in a diner located a mile from the warehouse. The four-foot-eleven crime boss shoved a forkful of spaghetti into his mouth.
Beside him, Little Louie fit his seven-foot, skin and bones frame onto his stool with room to spare. Little Louie glanced down at Big Ralph. “Boss, what was that thing I used on Major Speed?”
“Don’t know.” Big Ralph shrugged.
Louie blinked and rubbed his head. “I whacked Major Speed, and you don’t know how?”
Ralph glanced around the empty restaurant and leaned toward Louie. “I bought it from a rogue Russkie. Back when Stalin was in power, they executed a scientist, thinking he was a dissident. He left behind an invention, but they had no idea what it was, other than it wasn’t part of their defense plan. The rogue got it out of a warehouse and sold it to me for fifty g’s. I only got it so cheap because he couldn’t make any guarantees.”
Louie’s eyes widened. “You didn’t know what it would do?”
“Nah.” Ralph shoveled another forkful of spaghetti into his mouth. “He said it might even blow itself up.”
Louie frowned. “Boss, you didn’t tell me that before you had me fire it!”
“It worked.” Ralph reached up and slapped Louie’s shoulder. “Why worry you?”
“Gee, that was nice of you. So what is Mr. Dorado giving us?”
Ralph twirled spaghetti on his fork. “He’ll give you a color television.”
“Wow, Boss! Now I can watch Superman in color!”
Ralph glowered. “Don’t you see anything ironic about that?”
“What’s ironic mean?”
“Skip it.” Ralph cleared his throat. “My reward is that I’m going to get set up in politics. He said I’ll be a Congressman or Governor in a few years. Maybe President, but that might be asking too much.”
“You got rid of Major Speed forever and ever. You deserve it.”
“I don’t know if I did.”
Louie scratched his head. “Boss, we saw him disappear.”
Ralph took a bite of meatballs. “The Russkie said the scientist may have been trying to create a time machine. Speed could appear fifty or sixty years in the future. I’ll be dead by then, though, so he’ll be someone else’s problem.”
Louie grinned. “Boss, you’re thinking like a politician all ready.”
Major Joshua Speed ran through the nothingness of the limbo that surrounded him. It was like he was inside a transistor radio with all these circuits.
A shining portal opened up.
Here’s hoping this leads somewhere good. Major Speed dashed into it and ran through the blinding light in his solid blue costume.
He emerged back in the warehouse.
A young man wore jeans and a T-shirt with hard-to-read cursive writing printed on it. He had a gun in a hip holster and plastic black things stuck in his ears. Tiny black ropes lead from the things in his ears and disappeared into his pants’ pocket. His face and ears were covered in piercings like a pagan.
He ran over to the pagan and pulled the gun out of the pagan’s holster.
The pagan swore.
Major Speed glared. “Who are you?”
The pagan swore again.
Major Speed grabbed the pagan by the shoulders and lifted him two feet in the air. “Where’s Leopold? What was that trick you pulled on me?”
“I don’t know any Leopold.” The pagan swore again.
“Leopold takes his orders from Moscow. I don’t know what he’s paying you and your fellow tribesmen, but it doesn’t pay to help the Commies.”
The pagan blinked and cursed. “Dude, what are you talking about?”
How could this guy be that oblivious? Major Speed glanced at the man’s T-shirt and focused on the writing. Bumbershoot Festival 2012.
Major Speed gasped.
“Let him have it!” the pagan shouted.
A jolt of electricity shot through his back and filled his body.
He screamed. Where was that coming from?
The world fell out from underneath him.
“He’s got to die.” Mitch Farrow scowled as he sat in his plush office. It offered the best view of Seattle from the top of the Ross Insurance Building and a pale reflection of him. Mitch’s short, salt and pepper hair was unkempt.
King Bel’s shining, cherubic visage smiled through the viewscreen on the back wall of Mitch’s office. “Mr. Farrow, first of all, when you are in the presence of the king, you must remember to kneel.”
“I’m not in your presence.”
“Even if you’re talking on a viewscreen.”
What is your bidding, my master? This dumb king thing was going to be so hard to get used to. If it meant curing his ex-wife and daughter of the deadly disease they’d caught from him, though, so be it. Mitch knelt. “Forgive me, Your Majesty. I’m new to the protocol.”
“The people of your planet will all learn how to treat a king. Now, what is your request, Farrow?”
“I have to destroy Powerhouse. He is not only very powerful, he’s beginning to create a sense of hope. Right now, his activity is limited to Seattle, but it’s gonna spread as soon as someone gets a viral video of him.”
Bel grimaced. “We can’t have such an evil menace creating cruel false hope. Talk to Dr. Fournier. His technology will be at your disposal.”
“I’ll contact him at once, Your Majesty. In the meanwhile, I’ll unleash the most horrific weapon I have.” Mitch smirked. “A lawyer.”
Bel bellowed laughter. “Fournier’s weapon may prove to be a less severe punishment.”
“Thank you.” Mitch bowed his head.
“You’re learning.”
The monitor went blank.
Mild-Mannered Dad Dave Johnson sat on the brand-new, black leather sofa across from his wife Naomi. Dave was tall and muscular with cropped black hair. Naomi wore her hair dark hair just under her chin. They had the evening news on, but Dave had tuned it out.
Dave smiled at the check as he held it out to his wife. “Hey, take a look at this before I deposit it. This is the biggest check I’ve ever seen.”
Naomi took it and stared. “I’ve seen bigger, but I work at a mortgage company. For personal revenues, this is huge.” She dropped the check on the lap of her jeans. “This check is from Blue Cat Comics and is made out to you for Powerhouse’s royalties. Do you see a problem, Mr. Secret Identity?”
Yes, a huge one. Dave sighed. “I couldn’t figure out how they could pay me without getting my name in the system. Their Chief Accountant knows, but that’s it.”
“You should have incorporated.”
He laughed. “Whoever heard of a superhero incorporating?”
“Whoever heard of a superhero getting $50,000 per quarter or helping build churches and community centers? How are you handling the proceeds for the toys?”
“All going to charity.”
Naomi shook her head. “Only because you don’t want someone else having your true identity. That one guy is dangerous enough. What do you know about him?”
“Um, he’s an accountant.”
Naomi’s eyes widened. “He could be a blackmailer or an embezzler.”
“Well, I can’t make him forget it. The only way Superman could do that in the movies is by kissing them. He’s definitely not my type.”
“Very funny. He hasn’t told so far, but as long as you’re paid personally, somebody else could find out. Besides, you could use a business manager, and the corporation could pay both of you. I mean, there will be a lot of details. You’ll need to start a foundation so people can send you non-profit donations for your charity work. There will probably be a movie, other endorsements, personal appearances.”
Dave put up his right hand. “I’m a superhero not a baseball player. Anything extra takes time away from crime fighting and the family and that is out unless I can’t help it. Besides, who could I trust with my secret?”
“Someone who already knows, silly.”
“Hmm, tempting.” Dave sighed. “No, I can’t see Agent Polk leaving the FBI.”
Naomi tossed a couch cushion his head. “Me, you dork.” She cupped her hands over her mouth and then removed them. “I’m sorry for calling you a dork.”
Her? Dave raised his left eyebrow. “But you’ve won all those awards at work, you’re one of the best employees they have.”
“I have a room full of trophies and great benefits, but a meaningless job. The company may care if I close another mortgage, but what Powerhouse does matters, and I’d like to be part of it. You’re making more than we used to combined, so we could make this work. In addition, incorporation would help protect you from liability.”
“Liability?”
“Think about how crazy people are about suing. If they sue for something you did as Powerhouse, they could take everything. However, if you’re working for Powerhouse Incorporated, they can only sue the corporation.”
Dave shook his head. “Now who is mixing fiction up with reality? No one has ever sued a superhero in real life. That only happens in the Incredibles or on that one episode of Lois and Clark.”
On the television, a female anchor said, “In other news, a lawyer is publicly offering to take lawsuits against Powerhouse. Dick Matabyas has details.”
A male reporter stood with a microphone. “Seattle-based Attorney John Jordan says Powerhouse is getting away with far too much in his handling of criminals and private property. Jordan is offering the option of suing Seattle’s champion.”
The screen cut to a wiry, wrinkled man at a dais. “Powerhouse will no longer be able to get away with committing actionable offenses. I’ll help those who have been harmed by this so-called ‘do-gooder’ to be compensated. I will stand by the little guy who wants to sue that big, tin-plated bully.”
Sued? For what? Dave’s eyes widened.
Naomi crossed her arms. “You were saying?”