“Okay,” agreed the first one. He badly wanted to smoke but knew not to take the chance of lighting up and giving away his position. He and the others sat waiting, conversing now and then to pass the time. Some minutes later he began looking down at the entrance to the hall through the pair of binoculars they’d brought.
“You hear that?” he said, lowering the binoculars.
“Yeah,” Eddie said, “is that a plane?”
Before the other one could reply, a spotlight suddenly blazed from overhead.
“Shit,” cursed the pockmarked one.
Overhead, Bessie Coleman brought the Skhati into hover position. Henson was strapped upright on the wing operating the spotlight recently attached there. He highlighted the three on the apartment building. Unknown to the hoods or Henson and Coleman, the building was owned by Casper Holstein through one of his fronts. He had not shown for tonight’s speech.
“Is that the cops?”
“Can’t be, they ain’t got nothing like an autogyro do they?”
“Then we shoot it down,” Eddie said.
A gunshot rang out from Henson causing the three to duck. He’d surmised from previously reconnoitering the hall and its environs with Dulane this site might be where the gangsters would zero in on the hall. There was a feral glint behind his eyes as the wind tore at him on the wing. He supposed Destiny had spoken a truth about him in the garage. He couldn’t help it, putting his fate on the line was exhilarating. The Grim Destroyer be damned. Tonight, he was laughing in his face…tonight he was dealing justice from the skies. He almost laughed out loud, but caught himself.
“Come on, blast them with the ray, then do the joint and let’s get the hell out of here before this place is crawling with cops,” one of the other hoods yelled.
“Dutch warned maybe we might get three or four blasts out of this thing. It ain’t perfected,” the other said.
“I know,” Eddie said. He brought the weapon to his shoulder, aiming at the light. A stream of white light shot from the tube. But even as this happened, he knew he’d missed. Coleman had maneuvered the plane out of harm’s way. But the ray didn’t dissipate. It reached its apogee, then curved downward just as rapidly, striking a parked car, exploding the gas tank. Several other vehicles went up, and a storefront was blown out. A section of vehicle spun through the air and sheared off the top of a hydrant, sending up a stream of pressurized water.
Up in the plane, Henson put the light back on. He said, “I’m gonna fix these birds before they hurt somebody. Swing me over the top floor.”
“All right,” she said, “but even though that thing has limited range, I ain’t looking to get fried.”
“I hear you, sister.”
Now the hoods were shooting back with their handguns. But Coleman zoomed the plane around and Henson shot back. A round sizzled the air less than inch from his temple as the aviatrix brought the plane back to hover momentarily over the partially completed fourth floor, the top.
“Whoop halloo,” Henson yelled, dropped onto a section of wood framing.
“We’re bust, let’s get out of here,” Pockmark said, already moving toward a ladder. Down below there was shouting and running around. The police were trying to assess what was going on and maintain order. Because of the explosion, patrons were already rushing out of Liberty Hall as internal security tried to prevent people trampling one another.
Pockmark was wheeling the generator, and Eddie carrying the ray tube. The third hood trailed. The spotlight snapped back on, and now the cops on the ground could see him. They began firing up at the building. But since this was only revolver fire, there was little chance of being hit. Still it was only a matter of minutes until the police converged on them they knew.
“We gotta leave the generator,” the third one said. The plane could be heard receding.
“I’ll still be able to get a shot off at the hall when we get to the ground,” Eddie said. He’d been instructed the device should be able to store enough energy that even uncoupled, it would fire once.
Pockmark and the other hood yanked the wires free from the generator. They’d used ropes to get the thing up here.
The three moved quickly, descending the ladder to the exposed second floor and from there, they’d take another ladder. Only, now a policeman was climbing up and was shooting at them. They fired back, hitting the officer, who fell.
“Not so fast,” Matthew Henson said. Coleman operated the spotlight with a cable attached to it running into her cockpit. There were voices from below, more police gathering and figuring out how best to storm the upper levels.
“The fuck,” pockmarked said. He brought his gun up and Henson shot him dead with Two Laces’ .45. Henson had a handkerchief wrapped around his lower face. The other two stood frozen. “Drop ‘em and kick the gizmo and the gats over,” he commanded.
“Go to hell, Henson,” Eddie said. “You ain’t fooling anybody with that Deadwood Dick get-up.”
The third hood shot at Henson, and simultaneously Henson shot back. The hood’s bullet missed and Henson’s bullet got him in the leg.
“Bye, bye, Henson,” Eddie said. He had him flat-footed and triggered the ray gun. But the weapon was an inferior copy of what Tesla was working on. No electric beam lanced at him. Rather, the device hummed loudly. It got hot in Eddie’s hands and began smoking.
“Oh shit,” Eddie said, mouth hanging
