Typo Squad, page 13
part #1 of Typo Squad Series
Thea looked stricken. “Jesus,” she said softly.
“She was a monster,” Ewan said from the back, “but it was a truly brilliant plan. You see, we couldn’t shoot her or any of her men for fear that they’d be knocked backward into the flyers, and execute her threat anyway.”
“So what happened?” Thea asked. No one seemed inclined to answer.
“Dick, do you want me to tell her?” Big asked kindly.
Dick nodded.
“We were holding fire while Oss did her bad guy speech,” Big said. “You know how the more colorful characters love to make their speeches. She was just getting to the part where she was so much smarter than we were and we’d never stop her reign of terror and so forth and so on when . . . someone accidentally fired a shot.”
Thea digested this for a moment, and then her eyes went wide with comprehension. “Chicago,” she said simply.
“Yeah,” Big nodded. “Chicago.”
“So then what?” Thea asked.
Dick picked up the thread of the story. “The guy Chicago accidentally shot did exactly what he was supposed to do,” Dick said. “He fell backward and knocked over three huge piles of flyers. Chicago completely froze. In the confusion, the rest of us charged forward and subdued the other soldiers and Kay Oss, but the damage was already done.”
“It was a Saturday night,” Ewan said. “The streets below were teeming with people. They had no idea the danger that the flyers presented. They picked them up, some snatching them out of the sky. And read them.”
“Wait,” Thea said suddenly. “You’re talking about the Las Palabras Massacre.”
“We are indeed,” Ewan replied.
“But thousands of people died that night,” Thea said. “Are you saying Chicago was responsible?”
Dick nodded.
“Oh, my God,” Thea said.
“That was the night Chicago’s mind finally snapped,” Dick said. “It had been coming for a long time with his undetected tic. But that drove him over the edge. They took him straight to Fula Ord that night, and he’s been there ever since.” Dick swallowed as realization dawned. “Had been there ever since,” he corrected.
No one had a response to that.
“So, what, Nym wants to meet you on the same rooftop tonight?” Thea asked. “Why?”
“Tonight’s the anniversary of the Las Palabras Massacre,” Dick answered. “I don’t think it’s enough that Nym killed Chicago. I think he wants to rub what happened in my face.”
“And what if he just wants to lure you up there to kill you?” Thea asked.
“He won’t get the chance,” Dick said tightly.
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because I’m going to kill him.”
The sidewalks of Las Palabras were crowded with people out for an evening’s entertainment when Dick and his team pulled up in front of the library. They marched up the front stairs, and after running right past the startled librarian, headed straight for the stairwell in the back of the building.
Dick was overwhelmed by a sense of déjà vu as he led his team up the tight stairs toward the roof. “Hold your fire until we see what we’re dealing with,” he called over his shoulder as their footsteps echoed off the concrete walls of the small space. “But be ready for anything.”
They stopped at the door at the top of the stairs. Dick looked back at his team’s anxious faces and hoped he didn’t look as worried as they did.
“Ewan, Big, cover the left,” Dick whispered. Ewan and Big nodded.
“Thea, Anna, cover the right. I’ve got the center. Set?”
They all nodded.
Dick reached into his pocket to grab the index cards and take a quick glance at them, but Thea reached out and held his wrist. He looked up at her, and she shook her head.
“No,” she said softly. “You don’t need them.”
Dick thought for a moment and then lowered his hand, nodding. He tucked the cards back in his pocket, then turned back toward the door and kicked it open, transporting himself back in time.
The parapet that bordered the front wall of the building was piled high with stacks of paper. Standing in the dead center in front of the paper wall was Anton Nym, a gun held casually at his side. Next to him stood Doctor Paye. To their left were a pair of soldiers dressed exactly as the errorists had been that night, down to their camouflage uniforms, black Kevlar vests, and blank, mirrored face masks. Two more soldiers stood to their right.
“Richard!” Nym exclaimed in his distorted voice. “You made it! Brought your entire entourage, I see. How flattering.”
Dick held his weapon at high port, trained directly at the asterisk in the center of Nym’s forehead. His plan had been to gun down Nym the instant he saw him, but the stacks of paper gave him pause.
“Does this scene look at all familiar?” Nym spread his arms wide. “Is it ringing any bells?”
“How could you know about this?” Dick heard himself ask, the blood pulsing in his ears. “Everything about that night was classified.”
“One just needs to know who to ask,” Nym replied.
Dick took a few steps forward and felt his team move with him.
“Step away from the stacks of paper, get down on your knees, and put your hands behind your head,” Dick commanded. He glanced at the soldiers on either side of Nym. “All of you! Now!”
“Do you mean these stacks of paper?” Nym asked innocently, patting the pile directly behind him so that it swayed ominously.
“Step away!” Dick repeated. “Now!”
“Or what?” Nym asked. “Surely you wouldn’t shoot me or any of my associates and risk another . . . incident. Would you?”
Dick stood, frozen, his weapon still trained on Nym.
“Forgive my terrible manners,” Nym said suddenly. “I haven’t introduced you to my team.”
He gestured to the soldier on the far right. The soldier holstered his gun, reached up, and removed his helmet. Only it didn’t reveal a he, but a she.
“I believe you know Red Penny,” Nym said. Penny shook out her auburn hair and smiled.
Nym gestured to the next soldier in line. He removed his helmet as Dick found himself looking at Scott Shwiski’s face.
“Told you you’d see me again. Dick,” Scott said.
Nym then turned with a flourish to the soldiers on his other side. He gestured to the one closest to him. The helmet came off and it was Elizabeth, the girl from Whey Cool. Dick was just processing what he was seeing when the final helmet came off, and he found himself looking into the face of Miss Information.
“My team,” Nym said. “ Can I assemble one or what?”
Dick pulled his attention back to Nym. “So they’re going to show their faces, but you’re not?” he asked. “Come on, Nym. We’re all dying to know. Let’s see that mug of yours.”
Nym stared at Dick for a long time, seeming to deliberate. He looked at Doctor Paye, who, after a moment’s hesitation, nodded. Nym turned back to Dick, and then stuck his thumbs under his mask to pull it up.
Dick had a number of theories about who Nym might be. But when the mask came off, he certainly never expected to be looking into Chicago’s face.
“No,” Dick whispered. “This isn’t possible.”
“Yes, Richard,” Nym nodded. “I’m afraid it is.”
“But they took you,” Dick said, still trying to process what he was seeing. “At Fula Ord. I heard them kill you.”
“That was actually a bit of theater,” Nym said. “Those men work for me, you see. They brought me down the corridor and out of sight, and I made a loud fuss and all that, but really I was just getting changed into my . . . supervillain outfit? I wanted to cause you more suffering, thinking I was dead.”
Dick was reeling.
“So your mental illness? Was that an act, too?”
“Oh, no, that was very real,” Nym said. “I mean, obviously when I saw you earlier today, that was more theater. But I’ve actually been better for quite some time. I’d probably have spent the rest of my life shuffling around that place and talking to myself if it hadn’t been for this extraordinary woman.”
He stood, wrapped his arm around Doctor Paye’s waist, and kissed her deeply.
“I don’t understand.”
“I’ve been working with some experimental treatments,” Doctor Paye said. “Nothing that the hospital would ever sanction, but effective nonetheless. I was able to graft a brand-new personality onto your brother here. One that’s highly intelligent, cunning, focused, and completely sane.”
“It’s like a personality transplant,” Nym said. “Imposed dissociative identity disorder, if you will. We created Anton Nym together, she implanted him in my brain, and eventually he took over and subsumed Chicago. So when I told you Chicago’s death was necessary, I was being completely honest. Chicago’s gone. And frankly, good riddance.”
“Indeed,” Doctor Paye said. “I can do the same for you, Dick. You and Anton can be partners in crime. The Brothers Nym.”
“Oh, I like that!” Anton exclaimed. “What do you say, Dick? You could be Sinnon Nym. Or maybe Homo Nym?”
Despite the tense situation, Dick heard Big burst out laughing. “As if he doesn’t get enough jokes about his name already,” said Big.
“Chicago—” Dick began.
“Anton Nym,” Chicago corrected him immediately.
“Anton Nym,” Dick parroted irritably. “I’m not joining you. You’re a murderer.”
“How do you figure?” Nym was smiling now. “You intercepted the typo at Whey Cool, just as I knew you would. Same with the one at Strunk Field. You prevented my book from being released. I merely eliminated Chicago; I didn’t kill him. You might charge me with attempted murder, but that’s a very different animal.”
Dick was staring at Nym disbelievingly. “What about Superscript? What about the two guards and those six CLITs at the Grammatica?”
Nym’s smile faded and his eyelid began to twitch again. “What . . . what’re you talking about?”
Doctor Paye stepped in front of Nym, putting her hands on his cheeks. “Don’t listen to him, my love. He’s trying to confuse you.”
Dick pressed on. “Superscript was just twenty-one years old. The bullet you put in him went right through his heart. You killed him instantly.”
Nym was now switching between looking at Dick and looking at Paye. A look of mingled horror and disgust spread across his face.
“You’re not a killer, darling,” Doctor Paye said soothingly. “You haven’t killed anyone.”
“Those two guards just inside the entrance to the Grammatica,” Dick continued. “You splattered their brains all over the floor. And there’s all those bodies at Fula Ord.”
“It’s a trick, my sweet, it’s all a trick,” Doctor Paye said rapidly. “You’re completely sane now, you only deal in typos, and only to antagonize your brother for what he did to you.”
Dick was eager to press his advantage, but he paused at her words. “What I did to him?”
Doctor Paye turned, looking straight at Dick. “Yes,” she said. “Everything that happened to him was your fault.”
“This,” Dick said, gesturing to Nym, who now had both hands on the sides of his head as though trying to hold his brains in, “has nothing to do with me. This is your fault.”
“I can’t have killed anybody.” Nym rubbed his temples.
“You were the one who talked him into joining Typo Squad in the first place,” Doctor Pye said scornfully.
“Oh no,” Dick said to Paye, smiling tightly. “Nice try, doc, but I’m through feeling guilty for that.”
“I’m not a killer,” Nym said, his voice more plaintive. Scott, Elizabeth, Penny, and Miss Information began to look uncomfortable and unsure.
Doctor Paye turned from Dick back to Nym. “Of course you’re not, my love. Of course you’re not. Your brother is just trying to manipulate you. Don’t let him.”
“I’m trying to manipulate him!” Dick cried, and without thinking took a step forward. He knew in an instant he’d made a mistake. Nym saw Dick’s movement and immediately snapped back to his previous self.
“Stay where you are, Richard!” Nym shouted, stepping back and putting a hand on the nearest pile of flyers. “Don’t move another inch.”
Dick froze where he was. The brothers considered one another for a few moments.
“My people and I are leaving now, Richard,” Nym said calmly.
“You know I can’t let you do that,” Dick said.
“You don’t have a choice in the matter. Unless you want to be responsible for another massacre.”
Dick’s eyes flicked over to Ewan and Big. They still had their weapons drawn and aimed, but they both looked back at him and gave almost imperceptible shakes of their heads. He looked over at Thea and Anna, who did the same.
As the team watched, Penny and Miss Information stepped slowly sideways, moved behind Nym and Doctor Paye, and squirmed through a gap between the two centermost piles of paper. Dick could just make out the railing of a fire escape beyond. Scott and Elizabeth followed suit, and Doctor Paye brought up the rear.
Nym bent down, grabbed his mask, and put it back on. He spread his arms wide.
“Well, it’s been lovely spending time with you, dearest brother, but the future beckons,” he said, his voice once again distorted. With a quick salute of his gun, Nym stepped backward into the gap.
“This isn’t over!” Dick called after him.
Nym stopped and turned back. “My dear Richard,” he said, smiling, “this has just barely begun.” He stepped further back and disappeared.
The Typo Squad team lowered their weapons and exchanged glances. Big put his hand on Dick’s shoulder.
“Don’t worry, big guy,” Big said. “We’ll get him.”
Dick nodded.
“All right, grab as many of those flyers as you can and pull them back from the edge,” Dick commanded. But before any of them could take a single step, a series of small red lights began flashing on the ledge under the piles.
“The hell?” Dick said, and suddenly a series of small explosions went off along the parapet, and in a horrible slow motion, the piles of flyers tipped over the edge of the building and disappeared.
“No!” Dick shouted, running as fast as he could to the roof’s edge, the rest of the team at his heels. Below them, the flyers floated and danced in the air as they spread all over Main Street. Dick could see people below already looking up, pointing, and grabbing for the first arrivals.
He couldn’t tear his gaze away as a young couple snatched two of the flyers out of the air and examined them. They looked curious for a moment, then tossed the flyer aside and went on their way.
“What’s going on?” Dick asked quietly, as more people picked up the pieces of paper and nothing happened.
“Look!” Thea said, grabbing a fistful of flyers that had stayed behind. “They’re blank!”
Dick snatched them out of her hand and flipped them over to see both sides. There was nothing written on them at all.
“Son of a bitch,” Dick said. He scrambled over to another nearby pile of papers and checked them as well. Blank.
“It was a bluff,” Thea said.
Dick scrambled to the fire escape. “Come on!” he shouted to the others as he swung around on the handrail and mounted the top set of stairs. “They can’t be far!”
Rust shook from the structure as five sets of boots thundered down to street level. Dick jumped down off the last catwalk and onto the crowded sidewalk, filled with pedestrians still trying to make sense of the blanket of paper that now covered the street. Thea, Big, Ewan, and Anna landed behind him.
“Big, right alleyway,” Dick said quickly. “Anna, left alleyway. Ewan, Thea, the shops across the street.”
The words were barely out of his mouth and the team ran off in the directions he’d indicated. Dick turned, considering the library. He mounted the steps and made his way through the double doors.
“Not you again!” the librarian cried as he made his way to her horseshoe-shaped desk in the library’s main room.
“Sorry,” Dick whispered, digging out his ID and badge and flashing it at her. She raised her reading glasses from her bosom, studied his credentials, and seemed satisfied. “Did anyone come through here in the past few minutes?”
“Several people have, gratefully,” she whispered back. “So few people read anymore. It’s encouraging.”
“What I mean is,” Dick whispered, “have you seen anyone unusual? Maybe a guy dressed all in black wearing a mask with a silver asterisk on the forehead?”
The librarian studied him. “Young man,” she whispered at last, “perhaps you should be checked for a concussion.”
Dick returned to the sidewalk a few minutes later, just in time to see the rest of the team regather.
“Anything?” Dick asked.
“No sign of them,” Big said, sounding winded.
“Nothing,” Anna said.
Thea and Ewan both shook their heads.
“All right,” Dick said. “They can’t have gotten out of Las Palabras yet. I’ll call the LPPD and have them put out a BOLO on them.”
He looked around at the sidewalk and the street beyond, both completely covered in pieces of paper. “I guess we’d better call the Department of Public Works, too. And tell them to bring a shit-ton of recycling bins.”
Dick drove the team back to Typo Squad headquarters. He was exhausted and cranky, and could tell the others were as well. He muttered to himself as they made their way through the streets of Las Palabras.
“He played me, all right. He knew I’d go to Miss Information. Sent me to Fula Ord so I’d see him all weak and crazy, never suspect him. Sent me back to Mot Grange so he’d have time to kill everyone in the institution and set up the typo room. Made me believe that Nym was coming to get him so I’d rush back to Fula Ord with you guys and he’d be able to get the jump on us.”
He whacked the steering wheel with his open palm.
“And I fell for it! All of it!”
“Dick,” Thea said from the passenger seat, her hand to her eyes as though she had a headache. “Don’t.”
