Down And Dirty

"Mr. Gravemold." A minute bow. " I am a member of the good doctor's joker squad."

"Can't you travel with them in the ambulance?"

The android sensed a smile behind the dramatic mask. "I'm afraid that in the close confines of an automobile, my scent becomes rather

… overwhelming."

"I see your point."

"Gravemold." Tachyon's voice was strangled. "What are you doing in my secretary's office? Were you trying to eavesdrop?"

"That's Mister Gravemold, Doctor." The deep actor's voice was sharp.

"Beg pardon, I'm sure." Tachyon's voice was denasal. "In answer to your question, I was waiting to speak to our artificial friend. I wished to spare the other squad members the burden of my… perfume."

"Right." Through clenched teeth. "Do as you please, Modular Man."

The android and Mr. Gravemold left the clinic at a fast trot, and then Modular Man wrapped his arms around the joker from behind and lifted him into the air. Air ruled the feathers on Mr. Gravemold's mask.

"Sir," the android said. "Are there any abilities you have besides, ah…"

"My smell?" The deep voice was barren of amusement. "Indeed I have. As well as smelling as if I were dead, I have the powers of death. I can bring the cold of the grave to my enemies."

"That sounds… useful." Crazy, the android thought. The joker had been smelling his own perfume too long and it had driven him mad.

"I'm also fast and tough," Mr. Gravemold added.

"Good. So is Croyd." Quickly the android explained about the albino and his abilities, and also about the nature of his bodyguard. "Oh, yes," he added. "And Croyd is carrying a gun. A forty-four Automag."

"A preposterous weapon. He must be feeling insecure."

"Glad it doesn't bother you."

The Perry Street brownstone came in sight below. Modular Man dropped to the ground a few feet downwind of a slim, long-haired, middle-aged woman wearing shades and carrying a white cane. She was standing in the shadows by a doorstoop. The woman looked up. Her nose wrinkled. "Gravemold," she said.

"Mister Gravemold, if you please."

"In that case," said Blind Sophie, "I'm Miss Yudkowski."

"I have never referred to you by any other name, madam." A pair of ears, round like those of a cartoon mouse, seemed to inflate on either side of Sophie's head, rising like balloons past concealing strands of long, dark hair. She cocked her head toward Modular Man. "Hello, whoever you are. I didn't hear you till now."

"I didn't know I made any noise."

"You're a little late, gentlemen," Sophie said. "The two men left a couple minutes ago. Just after I got back from the telephone."

A

"God forbid I should interfere with Mr. Gravemold correcting my speech."

"Where did they go?"

"They didn't say. I believe they took the back way out." Without saying anything more Modular Man seized Mr. Gravemold again and rose into the sky. He swiftly quartered the district, radar searching out. Mr. Gravemold lay passively in his arms. Silent, the android thought, as the grave.

"We're on the way." Tachyon's voice crackled on Modular Man's receivers.

"There's a problem," Modular Man said, pulsing silent radio waves toward the clinic. He explained quickly.

"We shall continue heading in your direction, Modular Man," Tachyon said.

"There," said Mr. Gravemold, pointing. A pair of humansize radar images detached themselves from the shadow of a rusting iron pillar that helped support the deserted West Side Express Highway.

The android was surprised. The joker had incredibly good night vision. The android drifted silently toward the pair. He had to come within three hundred yards before he was certain the two were Croyd and his companion.

Uneasiness stirred him. The last time he'd almost died. Burning bright. Kate's voice echoed in his mind.

Each was burdened: the young man held a bulky parcel, and Croyd carried an outboard motor over one shoulder. Croyd was talking endlessly, but the android couldn't hear him. The two walked swiftly down a corroded concrete street and came to a stop at a chain link fence that cut off a Hudson River pier from the mainland. The albino put down his burden, inspected the padlock and chain that held the gate shut, and snapped the hasp with a quick twist of his fingers. The two moved through the gate and passed by a deserted guard box with shattered windows.

The pier was otherwise deserted. Except for a few ships caught here under quarantine, New York harbor was empty, a contrast to the blaze of activity on the Jersey shore.

"They're going to try to get off the island," said Mr. Gravemold.

"So it would seem."

"Put me down. We can deal with it."

"A moment. I've got to contact Tachyon." He sent Tachyon a radio message, heard no answer, and had to rise another five hundred feet before his pulse carried to the ambulance. Mr. Gravemold stirred restlessly.

"What are you doing, man? They're getting away. Put me down."

As soon as he heard an acknowledgment, Modular Man descended rapidly. Going to fight Croyd again, he thought. He remembered his first moments of existence, the confused fight around the Empire State Building, Cyndi's blond hair floating like a brilliant star above the ape's dark hand. Burning brightly, he thought.

He dropped Mr. Gravemold near the gate. The joker dusted himself off. "What was that all about?" he demanded. "I'll explain later."

Both jumped at the sound of a moan from nearby. The android's alarm faded as he saw a pudgy, unconscious man lying near the fence, a bottle of bourbon near his tattooed hand. The drunk wore leather trousers and boots and an NYPD cap. His chest was bare and featured steel rings hanging from pierced nipples.

Modular Man fixed this sight in his memory. Cherish it, he thought.

"We can't wait," the joker said. "Those two will get away before the ambulance arrives."

Mr. Gravemold turned away and removed his mask. There was no facial deformity that Modular Man could see from behind. The joker put on his hood and gas mask and began to move with speed down the pier, following a pair of rusted railroad tracks. His feet stepped in surprising silence.

"Wait," said Modular Man. "They'll see you."

The joker paid no attention. He moved toward the edge of the pier, ducked under a railing, and disappeared. Alarm rattled in Modular Man's mind. He took to the air and did a half-roll under the pier.

Mr. Gravemold was still moving, walking inverted on the old, corroded planks, his pace brisk, the dark and silent Hudson rolling beneath his head. The android flew up next to him.

A possibility occurred to him. His mind ran scans, cross-checks.

The possibility was confirmed at greater than ninety percent. Build, talents, race, approximate age… everything matched. The accents were wildly different, and the voices substantially different as to tone and timbre, but scans of certain key words showed a surprising correspondence.

Why, Modular Man wondered, had Wall Walker made himself smell bad and disguised himself as a joker?

Or was that another manifestation of Wall Walker's wild card? Maybe he was Wall Walker part of the time, and then he started smelling bad and became Mr. Gravemold.

Maybe he was just crazy. Why else would someone disguise himself as a joker?

He decided not to mention his conclusions to the inverted ace beside him.

"You didn't mention you could walk upside down," he said.

"Did I not?" The voice was muffled by the mask. "Sometimes I'm a bit forgetful."

"Is there anything else you can do that I should know?" Modular Man began to hear Croyd's voice. Mr. Gravemold looked at him. "Shhh. Be silent." The android sensed a grim smile behind the mask. "Silent as the grave."