Tales of the Red Panda: The Crime Cabal (16 page)

The Red Panda threw Bermel bodily over his shoulder, away from the
advancing forms of the two undead soldiers that rushed towards him, their jaws
gaping wide with the screams of their torment.

Suddenly, from beneath the folds of his coat there was the singing
sound of metal as the Red Panda drew forth a long bladed
katana
, a samurai sword.

Kit Baxter gasped, just a little. She had long admired this blade, a
gift to him from one of the dozens of fighting masters he had studied under in
his travels. But she had only seen him hold it a few times, and never draw it
in battle. He disapproved of deadly force, except in extreme measures, and felt
even a finely crafted blade like this left one with few options but to kill.

But if that lack of use had left the Red Panda with anything less than
total mastery of the weapon, one would have never known it to see him. He moved
the blade as if it were a part of his hand, graceful, yet lethal. He crouched
low as the first giant approached, and in a single sweeping motion downwards,
the sword neatly severed the zombie’s left leg near the hip, causing the
creature to fall in a helpless, immobile mass.

The masked man rolled forward with the force of the cut, changing his
momentum at the lowest arc of his roll and sweeping his arm and upper body
along the ground before him. He was back on his feet and standing, the sword
re-sheathed, before Kit realized that his cut had amputated both of the second
zombie’s legs at the ankles, and left the undead beast in the same state as the
other.

The Red Panda turned back towards them, where Parker stood gaping and
the Flying Squirrel breathless.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hello,” he smiled, as he hauled the still-stunned Bermel to his feet.

Before another word could be spoken, a roar could be heard from high
above. As before, the buildings on either side of the alley were being rocked
by a series of powerful, precise explosions… but this time they were bringing
down the end of the alley above their heads!

“Into the doorway!” the Red Panda roared as the landslide of debris
streaked towards them. The Flying Squirrel pushed Parker before her and then
followed, with the Red Panda close behind, half-dragging, half-carrying Case
Bermel, their only living link to the Crime Cabal.

They raced through the abandoned building as two things became
abundantly clear: this building had never been the headquarters they sought,
and neither Palmer nor Bermel were intended to survive this encounter any more
than they were.

The rotten wood of the empty building began to burn as smaller
explosions followed them, herding them forward but away from the building’s
front door. In the ceiling, in the walls, the charges sprayed forth fire and
debris, automatically geared to drive any survivors deeper into the fiery
holocaust. A beam fell just before Andy Parker, causing him to jump back. A
charge brought down a section of wall beside the Flying Squirrel, sending her
careening into a large, empty room. A second explosion in the ceiling held her
there.

The flames were roaring higher around them. The Red Panda threw Bermel
in Parker’s direction.

“Get him out of here!” the masked man ordered. “He’s our only lead!”

He turned back towards the room the Squirrel was trapped in. He was
half-blinded by the smoke, but he could see her clearly, just a few feet away…

An instant later, a series of small charges fired in sequence around
the edges of the floor in the great, empty room. It happened at tremendous
speed, like a machine-gun fired from below, but with far more devastating
results. A second later, the entire floor dropped out from underneath her and
she fell into the open blackness below, out of his sight.

“Boss!” she cried, her hand reaching up towards him as she fell.

The Red Panda grit his teeth hard and raced towards the ruined room,
reaching for his grapple line as he did so. He hardly noticed the first charges
that burst above him, but he could not help but see the ceiling coming down
before him, bringing the second story down in a great wall of fire. His path
was completely blocked with a mass of flame and debris. He could hardly see,
but he could hear another series of charges bring the ceiling down with a
deafening roar, in what was left of the room in which Kit had been standing. He
held his ground a moment… two… then he heard a cry from behind him. It was
Parker, almost lost in the blaze, desperately trying to pull Case Bermel out of
the conflagration.

He turned back to the shattered room and held his gaze another moment,
then raced after Parker.

From somewhere, over the roar of the flames, he could swear he heard
laughter.

Minutes later, the back door of an abandoned store was kicked halfway
off its hinges, and the battered form of Case Bermel, former enforcer for the
Ryder mob, betrayed member of the Crime Cabal, came hurtling into the empty
room. He landed with a dull thud, barely registering the clouds of dust his
impact threw up around him. His arm was grotesquely broken, and he had taken shrapnel
to the chest from one of the explosions. His dark suit front was stained with
his own blood and he was gasping for breath. His left hand was badly burned by
the fire that now raged down the street.

The air was thick with the howl of sirens. Police, fire trucks,
ambulances, all descending upon the inferno caused by the Crime Cabal’s
sinister trap. Bermel struggled to get to his knees. If he could just attract
the attention of… of someone…

The light through the door was suddenly blocked by the large, enraged
form of the Red Panda. Savagely, he thrust a boot into Bermel’s midsection,
dropping him back to the floor. The masked man reached down with his left hand
and hauled the full-sized gangster along as if he were lifting a toy. He took a
half dozen strides deeper into the empty room and threw Bermel bodily against a
counter-top, which cracked and crumbled at the force of the blow.

Bermel whimpered. The Red Panda took two steps towards him. From the
doorway through which they had just passed, Bermel heard a voice gasp,

“Hold it right there!” Parker stepped into the room, his .38 revolver
extended to arm’s length.

The Red Panda did not even turn to look at the young policeman. His
left hand swept behind him in a rapid motion, and a small, red boomerang folded
out in mid-air and cracked into Parker’s hand. It was a blind throw from twenty
feet away, but it was dead on target and the pistol flew from Parker’s hand and
skipped across the room.

“Next time you pull a gun on me, Parker,” the masked man growled without
turning, “make sure you drop me with one shot, because you won’t get another.”

Parker’s heart was in his throat, but he stood his ground.

“That man is a material witness in a criminal investigation–,” he
began.

“–which is precisely what I intended to pursue,” snapped the Red
Panda.

“The police can–”

“The police have done nothing but bungle and hinder this investigation
at every turn!” the Red Panda hissed, his eyes blazing as he turned.
“Particularly you. I don’t know what your angle is, Parker, and at the moment I
don’t much care. I’ll deal with you later. Now be silent while I interrogate
Bermel.”

“He’s badly wounded,” Parker protested. “He’ll never survive an
interrogation.”

“He’s dead already,” the Red Panda said bluntly, turning back to the
gangster where he lay gasping. “Aren’t you, Case Bermel? You can feel the life
draining out of you. No power in this world can save you.”

Bermel gasped his reply. “Y… Yes…,” he said coldly.

Shivers ran up Andy Parker’s spine. He had seen death before, but never
with such grim acceptance.

The masked man drew closer to Bermel and spoke evenly, almost softly,
but with intensity. “They did this to you, Bermel. Your masters. They set you
and Mitch Palmer up, and for no other reason than because you once worked with
Satchel Braun. They cut their losses, and that cost you both your lives.”

“I reckon they did,” Bermel said, his teeth gritted in rage and pain.

“There is only one way you can survive to have your revenge, Bermel.
Tell me what you know.”

Bermel gasped in agony. There was not much time.

“Why should I?” he spat.

“I can take the pain away, Case,” the Red Panda said gently.

Bermel said nothing, but his eyes darted upward, hopefully.

“No one in the world can save you, but only I can offer you a peaceful
death. Free from pain, even with some manner of dignity,” the Red Panda
promised. “And I swear to you those who did this will pay a heavy price.”

Another wave of agony seized Bermel. There was little time.

“What do I have to do?” he gasped.

“Just open your mind to mine, Bermel.” The Red Panda’s tone changed.
“Open your mind to mine…”

Andy Parker could only look on and gape in astonishment as the man in
the mask, through the power of his mind, calmed the writhing gangster. Bermel’s
expression changed to one of serenity. His breathing became even and regular.
Then, as Bermel’s trance became deeper, he began to answer the Red Panda’s
questions. He revealed the location of the Crime Cabal’s headquarters, of the
secret entrance in the floor of Fong’s Laundromat. He gave a complete
description of the connecting tunnel with its two steel doors, and a general
description of the headquarters beyond before his breathing began to become
irregular, and his speech faded down to a whisper. And then he was gone.

“You… you let him die,” Parker glared.

“You saw his wounds,” the Red Panda said grimly. “Nothing could have
saved him. And he got what he deserved.”

“You don’t get to decide that,” Parker protested.

“I didn’t decide it, Constable. He did, and his cohorts in this
so-called Crime Cabal. Bermel and Palmer had murder on their minds in that
alleyway, and they are justly served with their own treachery.” The Red Panda
turned suddenly and moved past Parker towards the door.

“Wait!” Parker called. “Where do you think you’re going?”

He quickly moved between the Red Panda and the door.

“Get out of my way,” the Red Panda ordered coldly.

“This is a matter for the law, Red Panda. I can’t let you race into
this half-cocked and get yourself killed.”

“You also can’t stop me,” the Red Panda said without apparent emotion.

“Well, I–”

“You don’t even know what you’re angry about, Parker. Are you trying to
maintain the rule of law, chase personal glory or save my life? Whatever it is,
I don’t have time for it. Get out of my way.” He loomed closer to Parker, until
the two were almost nose to nose. Parker swallowed hard but held his ground.

“You can’t do this alone,” Parker protested.

The Red Panda grit his teeth in anger. “I wouldn’t have to if you’d
stayed out of this,” he growled. “She raced into a bad situation to save your
miserable life, just as she had saved it twice already. You have a habit of
being in the wrong place at the wrong time. If time were more convenient I
would think to wonder why.”

Parker flushed. “Do you think–”

“I don’t know and I don’t care. I don’t have time for you.” The Red
Panda threw Parker aside with one thrust of his arm.

“I’m sorry for what happened to her!” Parker called from the floor.
“But a suicide mission won’t bring her back!”

The Red Panda froze. “You’re making a rather large assumption, Parker.
If she was killed, nothing else matters but making sure these savages never
hurt another person. But I don’t believe that.”

“You think she… That she could have…”

“I don’t know.” The Red Panda turned his head. “The explosions at Northcott’s
and the Golden Goose were massive. Beyond any reasonable scale, but without any
finesse. Anyone with access to enough high explosives and no regard for human
life could have set those off. But tonight? That was precision work. Both in
the alley and in the house. Those charges were sequenced by a master.”

“But… but why?” Parker stammered.

“To drive us into that room, and knock the floor out from underneath
us.”

“And then drop the ceiling.”

“To cover the trail, yes,” the Red Panda continued. “Which it did with
great efficiency. But I’m inclined to think those charges were set with more in
mind than murder. I think they were after insurance.”

“That’s why you didn’t ask Bermel about the membership of this Crime
Cabal, or for incriminating evidence?”

“That, and the fact that the hearsay evidence of a dead man would be
utterly worthless in a court of law, Constable. You should know that.”

“What are you going to do? That headquarters Bermel described… It
sounds impregnable.”

“It was designed to be so,” the Red Panda said seriously. “But doing
the impossible is only difficult if you insist on living through it.”

“How can you joke about this?” Parker protested.

“Constable Parker,” the masked man said, “I cannot impress upon you
just how serious I am. If this Crime Cabal has taken the Flying Squirrel
prisoner, they will have taken her to the most secure location they can.”

“Right to their headquarters!”

“God help them, yes,” the Red Panda said with a raised eyebrow.

“I don’t understand,” Parker said.

“I can’t imagine a worse mistake anyone could ever make than to assume
that young woman to be helpless. Ever. But even she won’t be able to fight her
way out of that fortress alone.”

“Neither will you. What if she… what if she isn’t in there?”

“Then it all comes down.” The Red Panda turned away.

“I’m coming with you,” Parker insisted.

The Red Panda seemed surprised. “You’re not invited,” he said
seriously.

Parker puffed up his chest. “You said it yourself, it’s my fault if
she’s been taken, and it’s my fault if she’s been killed.”

“That was unfair. The fault is also mine. And mostly theirs.”

“I can’t live with my share of that.” Parker stuck his chin out. His
eyes blazed.

The Red Panda looked at the young police officer for a long moment.
There was a strength about him, an air of nobility in sacrifice that he wore
well.

“You understand,” the Red Panda said simply, “that we fight to the last
breath. That we never give up until the job is done. And that I don’t really
expect us to come back.”

Parker swallowed hard, but didn’t flinch. “I’m coming with you,” he
said.

“Fine.” The Red Panda turned and walked away, fast. Parker was so
surprised he almost forgot to follow.

“Do you know what we’ll be up against?” Parker asked as they hurried
into the night.

“I have a general idea,” the masked man said as he ran. “Those
explosions can only be the work of one man. I don’t know how he can still be
alive, but at last I know the identity of our Wild Card!”