The quiet settling of the rubble greets my ears as I cautiously raise my head. The office is thoroughly destroyed, with damage done to the adjoining offices as well. I help Roedef up and set right his chair, then help him settle into it. “Care to share now, Mr. Roedef?”

    “I can’t, he’ll kill me.” He’s close to going into shock.

    “He already tried, Mr. Roedef. He failed. Tell me what I need to know, and I’ll put a call in to Police Commissioner Graham and he’ll arrange protection for you.”

    “He said…he said that he’d be watching me. Said he’d know if I…tried to rat him out. Must’ve bugged my office…”

    “Who did, Mr. Roedef?”

    “The…the Lynchpin...”

    I can’t get anything more out of him than the name before he clams up, shock taking over. I call Graham and inform him of the situation, and he promises to take care of Mr. Roedef’s protection personally. That taken care of, I take my leave of the building.

    I need a place to think, and I’ve imposed on Mac enough that I don’t want to return to the Zero Street Mission. Considering my options, I decide to gather my thoughts at the Bean and Donut.

    I once again don my Toronto Blue Jays cap, wings quickly sprouting from my back. I take to the skies, passing over St. Jude’s orphanage before turning south at the Bautista Enterprises building to cut over Off-Central Park. A few minutes later I touch down outside the coffee shop.

    I enter the shop and take a seat at my usual table, over in the corner. I remove my backpack and set it on the seat opposite me and wait patiently for Sarah to come over.

    “You do realize you don’t work here, right?” Not exactly the greeting I was expecting.

    “Umm, yes…your point being?”

    “Whenever you come in by yourself you take a seat as far out of the way as you can, leaving the nicer tables for other people. I know you used to work in the business, but you’re a paying customer here; you can have a window seat.”

    “Old habits die hard I guess, Sarah. Regardless, I think I’ll stay put.”

    “Suit yourself. Usual?”

    “Yeah, that’d be great. Thanks. Oh, and Sarah? Can I borrow a pen and paper?”

    “Well, the pen isn’t a problem, but I can’t lend you any paper. I can give it to you though.” She smiles, and I smile back.

    “Sure, that’d be great. Thanks.”

    Sarah returns quickly with a glass of milk, a glazed donut, and the pen and paper. I take a sip of my milk as I jot down what I know so far.

    I began a search for information regarding the whereabouts of my Hatility Belt. Just as I’m getting somewhere, Gamona shows up as I’m apparently disrupting her employers business. After a pitched battle I managed to scare her off, though I have no doubt she’ll be gunning for me for some payback. I learn that a supervisor, that’d be Bill Roedef, had snatched my Hatility Belt before it could be shipped to Canada. And the man behind it all, the Lynchpin, had bombed his office when I started questioning him.

    It seems to me that Gamona has worked for the Lynchpin before, when she wasn’t working with the Purveyors. More than likely she was sent to deal with me because of what I was looking for, rather than her story of my “disrupting her employer’s business”; the Lynchpin, who primarily works out of Gothametropolis, wouldn’t send his top assassin to deal with someone breaking up some muggings and minor thefts.

    I can understand why he would want the Hatility Belt; it would be an invaluable smuggling tool for a man in his business. However, it does seem a little suspicious to me. The Lynchpin normally avoids dealing with superheroes; there’s a reason he generally sticks to Gothametropolis as opposed to Paradiopolis. I’d think that the theft of a superhero’s prized possession would be a greater risk than he’d be willing to take.

    I finish off my donut and then remove my Communicard from my pocket. I punch in a number and then lay it down on the table. In a few moments the figure of Hallie materializes, projected from holo-emitters embedded in the card. She just happens to be 4 inches tall is all.

    “What’s up, Hat?”

    “I need you to run a search through our files for the last known base of operations for the Lynchpin.”

    “The Lunchbox, huh? Okay, hold on a minute…this is way easier now that the Librarian has been reorganizing the files…alright, here we go. Got a pen?”

    I indicated the instrument in my hand, Hallie proceeds to give me the address; 1939 Kane Avenue, which if I remember correctly is a block away from Shuster Drive.

    “So I take it he’s the guy who made off with your Belt?”

    “That’s the way it seems so far.”

    “You want reinforcements to lay siege to his castle?”

    “No, I think that I should be fine on my own. I’ll send up a flare if I get in trouble though.”

    “As nostalgic as that might be, I’d recommend just calling me. Anything else, your Hat-hairedness?”

    “That’s great, Hallie, thanks.”

    “No problem. Oh, Dreamcatcher asked me to give you a message if you called in. He said that his mom is free Tuesday and Thursday night, whatever works best for you.”

    “Tell him I’m not available either of those nights…ever.”

    “Hey, I’m not an answering machine, you two can hash this out yourselves.”

    The image of Hallie blinks out, the transmission ended. I think I hurt her feelings. I’ll call her later and apologize, once she’s not as upset. She seems a bit touchy lately, but I don’t want to pry into her business. If AI’s have business to pry into, I guess.

    “Ready to rock and roll, chief?” Sarah returns to the table, clearing away the empty dishes and dropping off my check.

    I drop a few bills on the table as I get to my feet, slinging my pack over my shoulder. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

    “Hey, before you go, Dancer asked me to give this to you if you stopped by.”

    “How would she know to leave something here for me?”

    “She’s the Improbability Dancer, do the math.”

    “True enough, eh? What is it?”

    Sarah pulls a small object from her apron. It’s a pen. And best as I can tell, it‘s a regular ballpoint pen. “So is this a lending or a giving?”

    “This one’s a gift. I’d like mine back though.” She smiles again.

    “Well, thanks.” Really don’t know why Dancer would leave me a pen, but I put it in my pocket nonetheless. “See you later, Sarah.”

    “Good luck Hatty!”

    I exit the shop and root through my backpack for the appropriate cap. My Winnipeg Jets cap. The Blue Jays cap is great for maneuverability and for covering short distances, but for a jaunt to Gothametropolis I prefer speed. I take to the air and blast off for my confrontation with the Lynchpin.

    For his sake they’d better serve seconds in jail.