Unwise Child Page 5

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  Mike the Angel was sitting behind his desk in his private office whenthe announcer chimed. Mike narrowed his eyes and turned on his doorscreen, which connected with an eye in the outer door of the suite. Whocould it be this time?

  It was Sergeant Cowder.

  "You got here fast," said Mike, thumbing the unlocker. "Come on back tomy office."

  The sergeant came through the outer office while Mike watched him on thescreen. Not until the officer finally pushed open the door to Mike's ownoffice did Mike the Angel look up from the screen.

  "I repeat," said Mike, "you got here fast."

  "I wasn't far away," said Cowder. "Where's the damage?"

  Mike jerked a thumb toward the door to his apartment, still sealed withtape. "In there."

  "Have you been back in there yet?"

  "Nope," said Mike. "I didn't want to disturb anything. I figured maybeyour lab boys could tell where the rocket came from."

  "What happened?" the cop asked.

  Mike told him, omitting nothing except the details of his conversationwith Wallingford.

  "The way I see it," he finished, "whoever it was phoned me to make sureI was in the room and then went out and fired a rocket at my window."

  "What makes you think it was a JD?" Cowder asked.

  "Well, Sergeant, if I were going to do the job, I'd put my launcher insome place where I could see that my victim was inside, without havingto call him. But if I couldn't do that, I'd aim the launcher and set itto fire by remote control. Then I'd go to the phone, call him, and firethe rocket while he was on the phone. I'd be sure of getting him thatway. The way it was done smacks of a kid's trick."

  Cowder looked at the door. "Think we can go in there now? The HCN oughtto have cleared out by now."

  Mike stood up from behind his desk. "I imagine it's pretty clear. Ichecked the air conditioners; they're still working, and the filters areefficient enough to take care of an awful lot of hydrogen cyanide.Besides, the window is open. But--shouldn't we wait for the lab men?"

  Cowder shook his head. "Not necessary. They'll be up in a few minutes,but they'll probably just confirm what we already know. Peel that tapeoff, will you?"

  Mike took his ionizer from the top of the desk, walked over to the door,and began running it over the tape. It fell off and slithered to thefloor. As he worked, he said:

  "You think you know where the rocket was fired from?"

  "Almost positive," said Cowder. "We got a call a few minutes back fromthe Cathedral of St. John the Divine."

  The last of the tape fell off, and Mike opened the door. It didn't workeasily, but it did open. The odor of bitter almonds was so faint that itmight actually have been imagination.

  Cowder pointed out the shattered window at the gray spire of thecathedral. "There's your launching site. We don't know how they got upthere, but they managed."

  "They?"

  "Two of them. When they tried to leave, a couple of priests and twoofficers of the Cathedral Police spotted them. The kids dropped theirlauncher and two unfired rockets, and then tried to run for it. Result:one dead kid, one getaway. One of the cops got a bad gash on his armfrom a vibroblade, and one of the priests got it in the abdomen. He'lllive, but he's in bad shape."

  Mike said something under his breath that might have been an oath,except that it avoided all mention of the Deity. Then he added thatName, in a different tone of voice.

  "I agree," said Cowder. "You think you know why they did it?"

  Mike looked around at his apartment. At first glance it appeared to be atotal loss, but closer inspection showed that most of the damage hadbeen restricted to glass and ceramics. The furniture had been tumbledaround but not badly damaged. The war head of the rocket had evidentlybeen of the concussion-and-gas type, without much fragmentation.

  "I think I know why, yes," Mike said, turning back to the sergeant. "Ihad a funny feeling all the way home from Harry's. Nothing I could laymy finger on, really. I tried to see if I was being followed, but Ididn't spot anyone. There were plenty of kids on the subway.

  "It's my guess that the kids knew who I was. If they cased Harry's asthoroughly as it seems they did, they must have seen me go in and outseveral times. They knew that it was my fault that two of their membersgot picked up, so they decided to teach me a lesson. One of them musthave come up here, even before I left Harry's. The other followed me,just to make sure I was really coming home. Since he knew where I wasgoing, he didn't have to stick too close, so I didn't spot him in thecrowd. He might even have gone on up to 116th Street so that I wouldn'tsee him get off at 110th."

  "Sounds reasonable," Cowder agreed. "We know who the kids are. Theuniformed squads are rounding up the whole bunch for questioning. Theycall themselves--you'll get a laugh out of this!--they call themselvesthe Rocketeers."

  "I'm fracturing my funny bone," said Mike the Angel. "The thing thatgets me is this revenge business, though. Kids don't usually go that farout for fellow gang members."

  "Not usually," the sergeant said, "but this is a little different. Thegirl you caught and the boy who got killed over at the cathedral arebrother and sister."

  "That explains it," Mike said. "Rough family, eh?"

  Sergeant Cowder shook his head. "Not really. The parents are respectableand fairly well off. Larchmont's the name. The kids are Susan andHerbert--Sue and Bert to you. Bert's sixteen, Sue's seventeen. They werepretty thick, I gather: real brother and sister team."

  "Good family, bad kids," Mike muttered. He had wandered over to the wallto look at his Dali. It had fallen to the floor, but it wasn't hurt. TheValois was bent, but it could be fixed up easily enough.

  "I wonder," Mike said, picking up the head of a smashed figurine andlooking at it. "I wonder if the so-called sociologists have anyexplanation for it?"

  "Sure," Cowder said. "Same one they've been giving for more decades thanI'd care to think of. The mother was married before. Divorced herhusband, married Larchmont. But she had a boy by her first husband."

  "Broken home and sibling rivalry? _Pfui!_ And if it wasn't that, thesociologists would find another excuse," Mike said angrily.

  "Funny thing is that the older half brother was a perfectly respectablekid. Made good grades in school, joined the Space Service, has aperfectly clean record. And yet _he_ was the product of the broken home,not the two younger kids."

  Mike laughed dryly. "_That_ ought to be food for high sociologicalthought."

  The door announcer chimed again, and Cowder said: "That's probably thelab boys. I told them to come over here as soon as they could finish upat the cathedral."

  Mike checked his screen and when Cowder identified the men at the door,Mike let them in.

  The short, chubby man in the lead, who was introduced as Perkins, spoketo Sergeant Cowder first. "We checked one of those rockets. Almost aprofessional job. TNT war head, surrounded by a jacket filled withliquid HCN and a phosphate inhibitor to prevent polymerization. Nastythings." He swung round to Mike. "You're lucky you weren't in the room,or you'd just be part of the wreckage, Mr. Gabriel."

  "I know," said Mike the Angel. "Well, the room's all yours. It probablywon't tell you much."

  "Probably not," said Perkins, "but we'll see. Come on, boys."

  Mike the Angel tapped Cowder on the shoulder. "I'd like to talk to youfor a minute."

  Cowder nodded, and Mike led the way back into his private office. Heopened his desk drawer and took out the little pack that housed theworkings of the vibroblade shield.

  "That accident you were talking about, Sergeant--the one that made thosevibroblades blow, remember? I got to thinking that maybe this could havecaused it. I think that with a little more power, it might even vaporizea high-speed bullet. But I'd advise you to wear asbestos clothing."

  Cowder took the thing and looked at it. "Thanks, Mr. Gabriel," he saidhonestly. "Maybe the kids will go on to using something else ifvibroblades don't work, but I think I'd prefer a rocket in the head tobeing carved by a vibro."
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br />   "To be honest," Mike said, "I think the vibro is just a fad among theJD's now, anyway. You know--if you're one of the real biggies, you carrya vibro. A year from now, it might be shock guns, but right now you'rechicken if you carry anything but a vibroblade."

  Cowder dropped the shield generator into his coat pocket. "Thanks again,Mr. Gabriel. We'll do you a favor sometime."