Tales of the Red Panda: The Crime Cabal Read Online Free PDF Page B

but she knew
where he was waiting.
    He didn’t have long to wait. A split second later he could just make
out the form of a bolt, stripped of its grapple, emerging from the fog at tremendous
velocity, trailing a thin cable behind. A red-gloved hand snapped out and
caught it in mid-air. He smiled. He hadn’t even had to move his feet, her
targeting was so precise. Not bad for a shot in the dark.
    The hands moved quickly. He detached the cable and fed it through the
winch hanging around the gargoyle’s neck. He fitted a small container of
compressed gas to a nozzle built into the winch, turned a safety valve and
flipped a toggle beside it. The mechanism within the device fired with explosive
force and spun the cable through the winch at rocket-powered speed. He turned
to watch the cable playing up from the darkness below. Over the grinding of the
gears he could clearly hear a sound that brought a smile to his face. It was a
man’s cowardly shriek, almost hysterical with fear.
    All at once the screaming man rolled up from the looming fog bank
below, racing feet first into the sky. He bit his lip to keep from laughing.
She had hog-tied their quarry by the ankles. If there was anything worse than dangling
over downtown, it was doing it upside-down. And hitching a ride into the sky,
balanced atop the soles of the terrified gangster’s feet as she held the rope
in one hand, was the Flying Squirrel, looking just as pleased as punch. She
sang loudly and tunelessly at the sight of the approaching rooftop, and at the
last moment threw herself backwards into the open expanse between the
buildings.
    She arched her back and rolled, firing her Static Shoes to propel her
still higher and away from the building, and with a smooth motion born of long
practice, unfurled the gliding membranes on her costume, rolling up and over
through the air.
    He tried not to watch her as she looped down to him in lazy circles.
The winch had pulled its cargo to the very top, and the Red Panda smoothly
detached the spent gas canister, slipping it back into the folds of his long
coat.
    She landed atop the gargoyle just above him and settled down into a
crouch, like an animal ready to pounce. He glanced up quickly. She was beaming
her broad, slightly crazed smile in every direction.
    “Hi,” she said, with a casualness that neither of them quite believed.
    “Hello,” he said, with a concentration on his task that neither of them
quite believed either. He pulled the cable taut and pressed the final switch on
the winch. The cable was instantly welded in a tight loop around the gargoyle,
cutting the bulk of the cord free with the winch, which he returned to his
pocket.
    He looked up. She hadn’t moved. Nor had the smile.
    “Didja miss me?” she grinned, still racing with adrenaline.
    “I was starting to feel decidedly stood up,” he said casually.
    “Me?” she said, lowering her chin a little and locking eyes with him.
“Never.”
    A very small pause hung in the air. Neither of them moved. She did this
from time to time, and he could never quite decide if she was teasing him or
just watching for a reaction. He could also never quite decide just what
reaction she was watching for and just what she might do if she ever saw it. In
any case, getting into a staring contest with a man whose night-vision
mask-lenses made his eyes appear completely blank was generally not a winning
proposition. Her cheeks flushed brightly under her cowl and she turned away,
just a little.
    The momentary spell broken, and both masked heroes became aware of a
sputtering, gasping sound not three feet away. Their guest had stopped
screaming when his skyward progress had halted, but he was clearly still
incoherent with fear. He spun slowly, counterclockwise, high above the streets
he had so recently been strutting down. His eyes were wide and staring. The
small bleating sounds that spilled from his lips could not be described as
words, but their meaning was clear. He was begging