The Age Atomic Read Online Free PDF Page B

yet returned, not even one of his most trusted men, Mr Jones. Were they dead? Nimrod felt a tightness in his chest, knowing that he would be to blame if that were the case, having sent his own agents to their deaths across a portal between universes with nothing on the other side.
    But the other methods of transdimensional travel weren’t working either. The hall of mirrors back at the Department was just that, a hall lined with mirrors. Nimrod’s team had even tried reversing the electrical charge that danced so delicately across the polished metal surfaces, enough potential energy there to fill your mouth with the taste of vinegar, but to no avail. Nimrod and the others had stood and watched their own reflections for weeks before Nimrod had taken to staring at the Fissure itself. It was prettier than his reflection, for a start.
    But it was no different in Battery Park, staring into the void between this world and the next. The Fissure was active and stable and unchanged, but there was nothing on the other side. The connection with the Empire State had been lost.
    â€œSir,” said the MP. Nimrod turned away from the Fissure and instantly missed it.
    The Fissure was addictive. Nimrod knew that, and the scowl vanished from his face. The MP looked nervous behind the black goggles they all wore. Nimrod made a note to get himself a pair for the next visit.
    â€œSir,” the MP said again, his voice low and discreet.
    â€œYes?” Nimrod wondered how long, exactly, he’d been standing in Battery Park. The Fissure played tricks with your mind, with time.
    â€œ She is asking for you.”
    Nimrod blinked, then nodded. “Very well.”
    â€œThere’s this too, sir.” The MP handed Nimrod a newspaper. It was fresh, the paper crisp and warm between his fingers. Nimrod cast an eye over the headline on the front page above a blurred black and white photo that showed nothing much except something white floating in the air against the background of what looked like Brooklyn at night.
    The MP stood back and saluted, then turned and marched away. Nimrod frowned, folded the newspaper into quarters, and followed.
    It was best not the keep the Ghost of Gotham waiting.

 
    SIX
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    The air was still and as cold as a slap in the face as Rad pulled the collar of his trench coat up and the brim of his hat down. The streets were slick with a thin layer of dangerous black ice, the gutters and the corners of buildings piled with a dry, sand-like scattering of snow, the kind you only got when it had been cold a real long time.
    And it had been cold a real long time.
    Rad sniffed the air and immediately regretted it, the sudden sting of ice like a firecracker exploding in his nostrils. He exhaled into the collar of his coat and dragged his scarf up over his mouth and nose.
    The Empire State was freezing up and here he was, venturing into unknown territory in the dead of night on the back of nothing but a weird phone call. Just like old times.
    He’d parked his car a few blocks south, where there were at least some people and light, but as he’d walked it had got darker and darker, as if the city was fading away, dying as he went north. Come at night, the mystery caller had said, as it wasn’t safe during the day. It sounded backward, but Rad had kept to the letter of the instructions. He hiked north on foot, through streets a little wider than he was used to, among buildings a little lower than he felt comfortable with.
    Rad crossed the deserted street and paused.
    He was being followed, but the person doing the following was hardly a professional. The attempt to match his own footsteps to Rad’s was poor.
    No problem. Rad thrust his hands into the pockets of his coat. In his left, his fingers curled around the short metal rod taken from the deceased – deactivated? – robot gangster, Cliff. In his right, his fingers curled around the handle of his gun.
    Rad kept walking, slowly at