Tales of the Red Panda: The Crime Cabal (20 page)

…right towards them.

“Run!” Kit called again, and the three did. Another twenty yards to the
first gate, now unmanned and unguarded. Past the first steel door, which even
for all its thickness could never stand against what was coming, and up the
ladder.

The Red Panda burst through the trapdoor in the floor of Fong’s
Laundromat to the screams of the employees and customers alike.

“Out of here! All of you!” he roared in a voice that no one dared
disobey as the Flying Squirrel helped Constable Parker up the last rungs. The
three of them broke for the door as a great tongue of flame burst forth from
the trapdoor, shattering the ceiling of the laundromat.

The store was evacuated immediately. No one appeared to follow out the
trap door… nothing but fiery death that quickly spread to every surface in the
place. Fong’s Laundromat quickly became an inferno.

From his position of safety across the street, Mister Fong wailed in
despair. His feeling of dread had been right. Nothing good had come of his
aiding crime. Nothing good ever could.

Andy Parker stood on the rooftop of his building. It had rained most of
the day, and had washed the thick grime from the air, along with much of the
evidence left behind by the destruction of the Crime Cabal’s headquarters the
night before. There was something of a chill in the air tonight, and he drew
his light jacket closer to him as he stared out at the lights of the city.

It had been a difficult day, to say the least. After the inferno had
claimed Fong’s Laundromat, he had turned around and found the Red Panda and the
Flying Squirrel gone. He supposed it was folly for him to expect anything else,
especially since they must surely have guessed that his original mission was
not the destruction of the Crime Cabal, but exposing their secret identities,
at least to the police. But there was still a pang of disappointment. A feeling
that he couldn’t escape told him that he had been a part of something larger
for a brief time, and now he was once again just a man.

It had been even more difficult to explain what had happened, and how
he knew that this subterranean disturbance was the death knell for the city’s
last big gang. Chief O’Mally alone had known of his mission, and it was in
private conference with O’Mally that he was able to persuade the Chief to
excavate the supposed empty lot at the end of the tunnel under the rubble that
had been Fong’s shop.

The newspapers were all over it already, and Jack Peters at the
Chronicle
had taken it upon himself to
brand the entire enterprise a triumph for the Toronto Police Force in general,
and O’Mally in particular. The other papers had followed suit, and O’Mally had
been forced to deflect requests for more information on the police operation
that spelled doom for the Cabal, without actually admitting that such an
operation existed.

Of course, that hadn’t deterred Peters in the least. The
Chronicle
evening edition declared that
unnamed police sources insisted that the Chief’s denials were to protect
undercover men still in place, ready to protect the citizens of Toronto from a
repeat of the vicious crimes of the past weeks. The entire thing seemed a
little hasty to Parker, though he had seen such things happen in the press
before. For the first time he found himself wondering if the masked mystery man
he had fought beside had a hand in any of it. He made a mental note to ask Jack
Peters, knowing full well that the newspaperman would never reveal a “source.”

O’Mally had taken it all with more than a little humbug, but Parker
knew that he was secretly pleased. He had seemed less pleased with Parker’s
investigation. Parker had not told him everything, of course. Far from it. And
as he repeated his paper-thin version of events for the fourth time, Parker
began to wonder just who he was protecting. His own career, which made a
certain sense to him, or these remarkable two people who flouted the law at
every turn.

O’Mally accepted that Parker had found himself more than once tangling
with the forces of the Crime Cabal in his efforts to seek out the Red Panda,
but he found it difficult to accept that Parker was ready to give up the chase.

“I won’t pretend I’m not
disappointed Parker,”
the
Chief had growled.
“You came closer to
unmasking this menace than anyone ever has.”

“No disrespect, sir,”
Parker had begun,
“but don’t you think… well…”

“Go on,”
O’Mally had said, gripping his pipe between
his teeth.

“As you say, sir… I got close.”
Parker had to swallow hard to keep from
tripping over the truth.
“But I got there
by looking for the places where criminals were most likely to strike, and on a
grand scale. Places where you’d try to be if your mission was to help ordinary
people, and bust up rackets.”

“And it nearly worked!”
the Chief had growled.
“With a little more time–”

“Sir!”
Parker had raised his voice in protest.
“If that’s how you find the Red Panda… do we
really want to stop him, sir? Can we really do everything he can do, and do it
better? I don’t know the answer, sir. But maybe it’s time we finally asked the
question.”

O’Mally had regarded Parker with a cold stare for a long moment, then
had dismissed him without another word. He had thought a minute after Parker
left, then had picked up the telephone and arranged to have Constable Parker
transferred downtown permanently. He would have to keep an eye on that young
man. Andy Parker very well might turn out to be something of a cowboy himself.
Or the next Chief of Police.

“Maybe both,”
O’Mally had thought with a smile.
“Maybe both.”

Parker had finally returned home to his little apartment, tired and in
need of a wash. He had felt the cool night air blow through from the little
kitchen when he opened the door. He wondered how long he had left that window
open.

To his astonishment, as he crossed the floor to close the window, he
saw his own service revolver sitting on the counter. This would not be
remarkable, except that he had lost the pistol when Professor Zombie had sapped
him back in the lair of the Crime Cabal. Attached to the .38 was a small note,
bearing a paw print in red ink and a single word:

“ROOF.”

That was half an hour ago, and as Parker stamped his feet and waited,
he wondered why they would call him and let him cool his heels. Finally, he
turned to go back inside. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he found
himself face to face with a bright red mask. The Red Panda had been standing
silently behind him.

The masked man grinned at Parker’s reaction. “Anything?” he called.

Parker stammered for a reply to a question that was not meant for him.
At last he heard a voice call from across the rooftop.

“Nothin’, Boss.” It was the Flying Squirrel, balanced on the ledge,
peering down the street. “I think he came alone.”

“Of course I came alone!” Parker sputtered. “Who would I tell? Who
would believe me?”

“An interesting point.” She smiled as she sidled past him to stand
beside her partner. She took a position at his right hand, just a step behind,
and her eyes quietly darted to every possible shadow. With such a perfect
sentinel, the Red Panda focused his unblinking eyes directly on Constable Andy
Parker.

“You were hunting us, Parker,” his voice challenged.

“Yes,” Parker replied, meeting the gaze.

“What did you find?”

The Flying Squirrel turned towards Parker slightly, as if his answer
were more important than any possible threat from outside.

“Only more questions,” Parker said simply. The Flying Squirrel smiled
and went back to her duty with a toss of her hair.

“Such as?” the masked man smiled. It was a disarming smile. The
confident smile of a man who understood his place in a world gone mad. Parker
envied that confidence.

Parker opened and closed his mouth in astonishment. He had not been
expecting to be asked. There were too many… far too many…

“Why?” he said at last, as if this single word could encompass every
possible question. “Why?”

“Because someone has to,” the Red Panda said simply. “Look out at this
city, Constable Parker. It is a great thing. Almost a living creature. And yet
it is as fragile as the weakest soul in it. And as dark as the darkest heart.
The gaslights can’t dispel all of the shadows. And within those shadows are men
made desperate by hard times. Such men are more dangerous than beasts. People
need a reason to hope. Someone has to bring the light of justice to those dark
places, Constable Parker. It is what we do, because someone must.”

Parker turned back to face them. “But now that the Crime Cabal’s been
routed… They were the last. You’ve cleaned out the organized gangs in the
city.”

“They’ll be back,” the Flying Squirrel declared. “Besides, they aren’t
the only menace. We made a special project of them because every dollar and
every dime they grift with their rackets comes out of the pockets of decent,
hard-working people that don’t have a thing to spare. But there are muggers in
the alleys, and rich men in the clubs who’ve lost it all and will do anything
to get it back.”

“And there are always high-powered lone wolves like Professor Zombie or
Kid Chaos,” the Red Panda took over. “They stooped to conquer this time, but
next time it may be something on a much grander scale.”

“Next time?” Parker stammered. “But… they must have died.”

“Yes.” The Red Panda smiled. “I’ve said that too many times to believe
it until I see a body. Besides, there are others. And things you can’t even
begin to imagine, Constable.”

“I see,” Parker said simply. “That was my question. What’s yours?”

The Red Panda eyed Parker coldly. There was something about this young
officer.

“The question I have, Parker, is what to do with you?” he said. “You
have done good work in the service of our cause. But you know more about the
way we work than I’m entirely comfortable with, and you know the identity of at
least one of my agents.”

“Agents?” Parker said. “You mean Gregor Sampson?”

“Agent Thirty-Three,” the Red Panda replied.

“Thirty-three?” Parker stammered. “You have… how many do you have?”

“That,” the Red Panda smiled, “is what we are here to determine. Do we
have fifty… or fifty-one?”

“Fifty-one?” Parker said, realization dawning on his face. “You
mean–?”

“You know something of my hypnotic powers,” the Red Panda said with
feigned casualness. “Erasing your memory of these events would take no great
effort. But it strikes us that you have… potential. Talent if you will. You
could be useful.”

“I took an oath to uphold the law,” Parker said seriously.

“No one is asking you to break it,” the Red Panda replied, “though
there would be another oath involved.”

“No man may serve two masters,” Parker said gravely.

“I ask you only to serve one.” The glowing blank eyes seemed to peer
through to his soul.

“Justice,” Parker replied after a moment. “We both serve justice.”

“Well, whaddya know?” the Flying Squirrel beamed. “He’s the only one to
ever get it on the first try.”

“The second one, actually,” the Red Panda reminded her gently, making
her blush behind her mask just a little.

He turned back to Parker. “The job is yours if you want it, Parker.”

“The job…” Andy Parker’s head spun. “What would I be… an informer?” The
word fell out of his mouth with no little contempt attached.

“We have our own means of getting police information when we need it,”
the Red Panda said. “And a Constable isn’t generally that well-placed,
intelligence-wise. That sort of thing may come up from time to time, but you’re
of much more use to us as a man of action.”

Parker nodded, more to himself than anything. Certainly there would be
great risk in accepting this offer. His career, his freedom, possibly his life.
But all of them paled in comparison to the thought of saying no and losing this
opportunity.

“I’ll do it,” Parker said simply. “What do I… I mean, when do I…?”

“We’ll be in touch,” the Red Panda said, turning quickly, his great
coat making a sudden sweeping sound like the sail of a ship catching the wind
as he walked towards the edge of the roof.

“Don’t wait up.” The Flying Squirrel beamed as she raced after him.

“But where are you–?” Parker’s question was cut off as the two of
them stepped off the rooftop and fell into the black of the night.

Parker raced for the edge of the building, skidding to a halt just
before reaching the ledge. Through the chilly night air, over the darkness of
the city that needed heroes, Andy Parker could just see the shape of the girl
in the steel grey catsuit, floating through the air at great speed. Beside her,
suspended from a silken cord until he reached the side of a building to cling
to, was the remarkable man of mystery he had set out to catch.

Parker could still hear their laughter ringing through the night. It
was the mad laughter of those that fought an impossible fight, and did it
gladly. And it was the confident, joyous laughter of two people that knew their
place in a dark world that needed their light. High on the roof of his
building, Andy Parker felt that same laughter growing within his own heart for
the very first time.

“The first time,”
he knew,
“but
not the last.”

--THE
END--