Typo Squad, page 8
part #1 of Typo Squad Series
“I . . .” Dick began, but trailed off. He stepped over to the kitchen counter and stared at his cards. “I forgot.”
Dick tried to keep his mind blank, but Tanka’s words had sunk in. In his focus on Superscript, he had completely forgotten about the guards and the CLITs who had died first. He sat down heavily on one of the living room chairs. Tanka sat on the end of the coffee table, facing him.
“Dick,” he said, much more calmly now, “you’re the best I’ve got. You’ve always been the best. But I need to know I can count on you. I need to know you’re going to be here. I need you to help stop this guy.”
Dick thought it over. After a while, he nodded.
“Thanks,” Tanka said. “Can we get to work?”
“Not right now.” Dick pointed toward the nearby index cards.
Tanka nodded. “Okay, then.” Tanka took off his coat. “You go lie down and sleep it off. There’ll be fresh coffee when you wake up.”
Dick grunted in agreement, headed to the bedroom, and fell headfirst into a black, dream-free sleep.
When he awoke, he was surprised to find himself in the passenger seat of Tanka’s car, headed toward Typo Squad headquarters.
“The hell?” he said thickly, trying to bring the world into focus.
“Oh good, I won’t have to carry you when we get there,” Tanka said. “Once is enough. And I thought Big was unwieldy.”
“Why’d you muscle me into the car?” Dick asked, rubbing his eyes.
“Because all of the important stuff is at headquarters,” Tanka said. “So the sooner we get back to work, the better.”
“Urgh,” Dick said. “Hey, you promised me coffee.”
Tanka reached down and grabbed a travel mug. “Cream and nine sugars. Just the way teenage girls like it.”
Dick took the coffee and sipped it, blinking hard and trying not to watch the city speeding by outside.
“This is why I didn’t want to come back, Tanka,” Dick said suddenly. “I knew someone would get hurt.”
“A lot more people are going to get hurt if you don’t see this through,” Tanka replied. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? I thought you needed to come back. I thought it would give you purpose again. I thought you needed a team again. Maybe I was wrong. But we’ve got this Nym mess to clean up right now. Once that’s done, if you want to leave again and stay gone forever, I won’t stop you.”
Dick pressed his head against the cool glass of the passenger side window and closed his eyes. “Sometimes I really wish I were dead.”
“If we’re not careful,” Tanka said, “you just might get that wish.”
At Typo Squad headquarters, the mood was somber. Dick and Tanka passed through the lobby, Autumn stopping Dick to give him a long hug and offer her condolences. Inside, Big, Ewan, and Anna offered theirs as well.
“Where’s Thea?” Dick asked. Anna pointed toward the locker room.
Dick opened the locker room door and heard soft sobbing. He peeked his head around and saw Thea sitting on the floor, knees up, head resting on her crossed arms. Her hair was down, and Dick noticed once again how lovely it was when it wasn’t pulled back into a tight ponytail.
He crossed the room and sat down beside her.
“The first time I saw somebody killed in the field,” Dick said softly, “I went straight home. Didn’t finish out my shift, didn’t clock out, didn’t tell anyone where I was going. Just went home. I didn’t know what else to do. I remember going into the kitchen, grabbing a bowl and some cereal and milk, without really knowing what I was doing. And when I went to pour the cereal, it spilled all over the kitchen table because my hand was shaking so badly.”
Thea raised her head, sniffed, and wiped tears away from her cheeks. Her eyes and face were almost the same shade of pink.
“Yeah?” she said, her voice watery. “Then what?”
“Then I scooped up all the spilled cereal and dropped it back in the box. I stood up, walked calmly to the bathroom, and puked until I burst a blood vessel in my eye.”
Thea chuckled a bit.
“Listen,” he said, putting an arm around her shoulder and pulling her close, “it’s all right to feel what you’re feeling. Okay? It’s normal. It means you’re human and that you haven’t become jaded. But as my partner, I’m asking you to put all of what you’re feeling aside for now. We have a murdering shit-bag out there that we need to catch. And we need to make him sorry he ever laid a finger on Superscript or those guards or any of those CLITs. Can you do that?”
Thea sniffed again, looking up at Dick. “Yeah. Yeah, I can do that.”
The moment spun out. Dick gazed deeply into Thea’s green eyes. Dick noticed his pulse had quickened. Even red-faced and puffy-eyed, Thea was truly beautiful.
He leaned forward a bit. So did she.
“Are you guys gonna kiss?” came Big’s voice from behind a set of nearby lockers.
Dick saw Big’s head peering around the corner, a wide, knowing grin across his face. He only hovered there for a moment before Anna’s gloved hand reached in, hooked his ear, and yanked him away.
“Ow!” Big protested as he was led out of the locker room. “Hey! Quit it! C’mon, they were gonna kiss!”
“That’s nobody’s business but theirs,” Anna said. “Out!”
Dick looked back at Thea, who looked marginally more cheerful.
“Come on,” she said. “Let’s get to work.”
They exited the locker room to find a chaotic scene. Tanka was standing at the far end of the room behind a podium that bore the Typo Squad logo on the front. Gathered around him were dozens of men and women in suits, all holding notepads and recorders, and various cameramen. Big, Ewan, and Anna stood off to the side and toward the back, away from the commotion.
As Dick and Thea joined ranks with their teammates, Big nodded at the scene.
“Press conference,” he whispered. “This should be great. Tanka’s really bad at press conferences.”
“I don’t remember him being really bad at press conferences,” Dick said.
Ewan leaned forward. “He hasn’t the patience he had five years ago,” he said. “And five years ago, he hadn’t much patience to begin with.”
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” Tanka began. He was already sweating, and his face was pinker than usual. “I’m here to confirm that at 4:53 this evening, in and around the Grammatica building on Twelfth Avenue in Las Palabras, a perpetrator was involved in the murder of nine individuals.”
There was an immediate ripple through the reporters and many of them stood, shouting questions.
“I’m not finished, goddammit!” Tanka snarled, and the reporters all sat down as if slapped.
“The perpetrator goes by the name Anton Nym,” Tanka continued. “He is known to Typo Squad, though this is the first instance that we know of where he’s resorted to firearms instead of typos. A description of Nym will be distributed shortly. He should be considered armed and extremely dangerous, and citizens of Las Palabras are urged to contact us with any information they might have. Now I’ll take questions.”
Dick leaned over to Big. “I thought you said he was really bad at these.”
Big smiled. “Give it a minute.”
The group of reporters rose once again, and a confused babble broke out. Tanka pointed to a young woman in the front row, and the rest quieted to let her talk.
“Lieutenant Tanka,” the reporter said, “do you know of any motives behind the killings?”
“What a stupid question,” Tanka said. “What am I, a goddamned mind reader? How the hell do I know why this nut-job is killing people? Next question.”
An older reporter jumped up. “Lieutenant, will you be releasing the names of the victims?”
“What kind of a ghoul are you?” Tanka retorted. “Are you planning to dance on their graves, too? No, we’re not releasing any names. Next question.”
Another woman stood. “Lieutenant, does it appear at this time that Anton Nym might have errorist ties or leanings?”
“Listen to yourself,” Tanka said disgustedly. “There are no more errorists. Jesus, do your research. Next question.”
A younger man stood and raised his pen in Tanka’s direction. “Lieutenant, will you be coordinating efforts with any of the other typo divisions?”
“What, you think my team can’t handle this on their own?” Tanka barked. “For your information, we’ve recently brought Dick Shonnary back into the fold, so I think we’re more than prepared.”
He gestured to where Dick stood with the rest of the team. All heads swiveled toward Dick, and in one wave, the reporters abandoned Tanka and made their way over to him, shouting questions and snapping photos.
“Something I said?” Tanka asked.
The next morning, Dick arrived for work and found Thea waiting for him at his desk.
“Before you get comfortable, c’mon,” she said heavily.
“Where are we going?”
“To see the quartermaster.” Thea was already heading toward the stairwell that led to the police station next door.
“What for?” Dick asked, following her.
“We need to get you fitted for your dress uniform.”
“Dress uniform?” Dick said with clear distaste. “Why do I need a dress uniform?”
Thea stopped and turned back to face him.
“Superscript’s funeral,” she said simply.
The sun shone down brightly as Dick and Thea arrived at Gramadach Cemetery. His dress uniform was as uncomfortable as he remembered, but when he spotted Ewan, Big, Anna, and Tanka gathered at the gravesite in their finest, he had to admit they looked impressive. Their dress jackets, pants, shoes, and hats were all similar to the Marines’ dress, except Typo Squad’s were all black with a red belt and the agency’s insignia on the shoulder and the front of the cap. They lined up with the rest of the team, and Dick looked around. The turnout was depressingly small; beyond Superscript’s former gang member friends, Brackets and Carat, there were a handful of mourners.
As they waited for the priest to arrive, Dick whispered to Thea, “Who paid for all this? Superscript didn’t have any money.”
“Tanka did,” Thea whispered back.
Dick leaned forward slightly to see the lieutenant’s face. It was stoic and unreadable, but in that moment, Dick felt a great swell of affection toward him.
After the funeral service, and once again dressed in their tactical uniforms, the team gathered in the small, shabby conference room. Anna sat across from Dick and Thea with an open laptop, and Tanka sat at the head of the table.
“Okay, let’s get a solid description of this asshole in the system,” Tanka said. “How tall would you say he was?”
“About six foot, maybe six one,” Dick answered. Anna typed the information in.
“Weight?”
“Between one-eighty and two hundred,” Thea said. “Thin build, but strong.”
“Did either of you get a look at his skin tone?” Tanka asked.
Dick and Thea looked at one another, and both shook their heads.
“He was covered head to toe,” Dick said. “The black mask with the silver asterisk, and then a black button-down, black tie, black suit jacket, black dress pants, and black shoes and socks. Oh, and black gloves.”
“Right-handed or left?” Tanka asked.
“He had the gun in his right,” Thea answered.
“And what kind of gun?”
“Nickel-plated Hardballer Longslide,” Dick replied.
“Anything distinctive about his voice?”
“He was using the same type of voice changer that he used in the video,” Dick said. “No idea what he really sounds like.”
“Did he say anything that might give us an idea where he’ll turn up next?”
Once again, Dick and Thea looked at one another, and once again they both shook their heads.
“Sorry, boss,” Thea said.
“At least we’ve got something to go on now,” Tanka said. “Anna, upload that info to the database and make sure everyone has access, will you?”
“I’m on it,” Anna said, typing away.
“Lieutenant,” Ewan said quietly. “Don’t you feel that we have an obvious suspect in all of this?”
Tanka gave him a confused look.
“No,” Tanka replied. “Do you feel that we do?”
The room went quiet, all eyes on Ewan.
“I do,” Ewan replied.
Tanka sat down at the head of the table. “Then by all means, let’s hear it.”
“Agent Shwiski,” Ewan said simply.
“Scott?” Anna asked. “No, that’s crazy.”
“Have any of you seen him since he quit?” Ewan asked.
Everyone looked at one another. No one had.
“He appears to fit the physical description,” Ewan continued, “and he certainly has a gripe against Dick.”
Anna shook her head. “No,” she repeated. “Scott’s an asshole, but he’s not a killer.”
“He seemed quite incensed when he stormed out of Merriam’s,” Ewan said. “Angry people do terrible things.”
Tanka stared at the table, deep in thought. “Boss?” Dick asked at last.
“It’s not enough to bring him in for questioning,” Tanka said, “but let’s see if he’s willing to come in on his own. You know where he lives?” he asked Anna. She nodded.
“Go and talk to him,” Tanka said.
“And be sure to give him our best,” Big said sweetly.
“Dick,” Tanka said.
“Oh, I know that tone,” Dick groaned. “You’ve got an idea, and I’m not going to like it.”
“I’ve got an idea,” Tanka sighed, “and you’re not going to like it.”
“Great. What is it?”
“It might be time to talk to Penny,” Tanka said, without looking at Dick.
“Ah, shit,” Dick said.
“Who’s Penny?” Thea asked.
“Red Penny. A former Typo Squad agent,” Tanka said. “She lives on the street now, and she can be a really solid source of information.”
“Well, that’s great!” Thea said. “Why wouldn’t you want to talk to her?”
Dick shifted uncomfortably in his chair.
“Oh, for Christ’s sake,” Thea said, exasperated. “Not her, too.”
Dick merely shrugged.
“It’s actually a bit more complicated than a simple dalliance,” Ewan chimed in. “Red Penny at one time filled the same role you now do. She was Dick’s partner.”
“Oh,” Thea said. “I see.”
“Is talking to Penny a request or an order?” Dick asked Tanka.
“She might be our best bet to find out who Nym is,” Tanka said. “So you tell me.”
Dick thought it over for a moment, then nodded. He stood up, turning to Thea. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s go see what Penny knows.”
CHAPTER NINE
Dick and Thea drove across town in silence, pulling up in front of the Las Palabras Art Museum just after sundown. A ground fog crept along the sidewalks, casting the streetlights in a ghostly haze.
“She should be down there,” Dick said as they got out of the car. He pointed to a narrow alleyway that ran between the museum and the customs house next door. They made their way to the darkened mouth of the alley, and together they navigated the tight quarters of trash cans, dumpsters, and bloated rats scurrying in and out of hiding places.
The alley ended in a chain link fence, and a makeshift shelter made of a refrigerator box and an assortment of appliance blankets stood propped against it. Dick grabbed a small flashlight from his belt, pulled aside the tatters, and peered in.
“Penny?” he called, but there was no one there.
“Now what?” Thea asked. Dick looked around. On the other side of the fence, a homeless man, all stained clothing and missing teeth, slept against the wall with a nearly empty bottle cradled gently in his arms.
“Hey!” Dick called. “Hey!”
The homeless man stirred and looked up at Dick with watery, bloodshot eyes. Dick presented his Typo Squad badge.
“You know Red Penny?” Dick asked.
The man nodded.
“Where can I find her?”
With great effort, the man lifted his ragged fingerless glove and pointed up and behind them. Dick turned and saw a gleaming multistory building across the street. He turned back.
“What? She lives over there now?”
The man nodded and then fell back into a fitful doze.
“Come on,” Dick said, and he and Thea threaded their way out of the alley.
The building across the street couldn’t have been more than a few years old, and boasted a beautiful wood-paneled lobby with a concierge. Dick and Thea approached the man, a thin balding fellow with a graying mustache and reading glasses balanced on the end of his sloped nose.
“Evening, folks. How can I help you?” he said.
“I’m Agent Shonnary; this is Agent Saurus,” Dick said, presenting his badge. “Typo Squad.”
“Agents,” the concierge said, nodding. “What can I do for you?”
“We’re looking for a woman called Red Penny. We were told she lives here now, although I can’t imagine that’s true.”
“Oh yes, I know her. She moved in last month. She took one of the penthouse apartments.”
“What?” Dick asked. “How is that possible?”
“I’m not sure what you mean, Agent Shonnary.”
“Well, unless her fortunes have changed dramatically, the Red Penny I know is homeless.”
The concierge shook his head. “Then we can’t be talking about the same person. The woman I know is well-appointed and, if you’ll forgive me, appears to have money to spare.”
Dick pondered this for a moment. “The penthouse, you said?”
“Yes sir. Twenty-first floor, unit 2109. Elevator’s around the corner to your left.”
“Thanks.”
Dick and Thea made their way to the elevator. “What are you thinking?” Thea whispered.
“I’m not sure what to think just yet.”
