Sunday Morning, the De Young Museum, San Francisco
Ring-Ring
"De Young Museum. Cassandra Salvatore's office."
"May I speak to Ms. Salvatore, please?"
"May I ask who's calling?"
"This is Knightblade. We met at the, um... theater last night."
"Yeah, right, buddy. Try it on someone else."
Click
Ring-Ring
"De Young Museum. Cassandra Salvatore's office."
"Look, this really is Knightblade. I need to speak-"
"Listen, buster, I don't have time for your jokes. I got enough problems
with my boss's. So don't call back!"
Click
A few minutes later.
Ring-Ring
"De Young Museum. Cassandra Salvatore's office."
"This is Professor Jones of the University of Indiana Archaeology
Department. Could I speak to Miss Salvatore?"
"Just one second while I connect you."
(Knightblade's note to self: send a dozen roses to Cassie's secretary...
FROM TONY.)
Buzz, whir, click.....
"Doctor Jones, it is so good to hear from you," Cassandra says.
"We got the headpiece for the staff of Ra and subtracted the 1 meter
to honor Ra, but length still seems wrong. According to our calculations,
the staff of Ra would locate the Ark of the Covenant under Alcatraz. Are
you sure you got the numbers right? Oh, by the way, you left your whip
over at my house last night."
There's a pause and then laughter. "Oh really, Tony, I can't believe
you told Monique you were Dr. Jones from the University of Indiana,"
she says between laughs. "At this rate I won't have a secretary by
the end of next week. What's up?"
"Monique. Of course, her name is Monique," sighs Knightblade
with a totally exasperated air. "You know for some odd reason she
didn't believe I was Knightblade, but she had no problems with a whip-wielding
archaeologist from the Midwest," he sighs again, and his voice takes
on a more relaxed tone, "Good morning, Ms. Salvatore, how are you
today? I hope your Uncle Alex is alright."
"Knightblade! Sorry, I thought you were my husband Tony. Well, that
was the reason for the whip, ahem, comment," says Cassie clutching
her hand over her eyes. Tony is not going to believe I talked about
whips with a superhero.
"My Uncle Alex is doing fine. It takes more than a flashy phantom
and some celestial spirits to shake him up. Now ruin his baklava, then
you'll have an upset man. But thank you for asking. I'm really glad you
called, seeing as I didn't get your phone number during all the commotion
after the musical. How does one call a superhero? Do you have super hearing?
Could I just yell really loud? Anyway, I was wondering if you discovered
anything new about that mysterious phantom. I have a sneaking suspicion
that the kidnapping at the theater last night is just the beginning of
a bigger problem."
"Well, first, never apologize for confusing me with your husband.
I'm always thrilled to be compared to someone who is obviously as lucky
as he is," Knightblade pauses for a second and the distinct sound
of tires squealing is heard over the connection.
"Second, I can give you the radio frequency to contact me in the suit
if that would work. I do have another life though. So, I'm not always available.
As regards the phantom, the only thing I'm afraid I've learned is that
it appears to be out of my field. There seem to be signs of magical involvement.
I was hoping that perhaps you might have some contacts in that area as
magic is so closely tied to history. And lastly, do you know if your uncle
honeys both sides of his filo dough or just one?"
"Honey goes on both sides of the inner and top pieces of filo, but
only put honey on one side of the bottom piece," Cassandra says, her
stomach growling. This what you get when your husband eats most of biscotti
at breakfast.
"Are you hungry? I was thinking you could come over to the museum
and catch a bite to eat from the snack bar while I made some calls. I don't
really know anyone specifically involved in magic, but the museum maintains
a list of experts to contact when dealing with authenticating ancient relics.
One of them might be able to direct us to someone a little more knowledgeable
about magical items, the occult, etc."
"However, I have my own personal theory on this. We've got someone
using magic and the kidnapping of five singers including our two Christines
- understudy and lead actress. Perhaps whomever kidnapped these singers
need their vocal talents in a spell. I'll admit that most of my experience
with magic is limited to movies and Saturday morning cartoons, but aren't
some spells chanted? Perhaps in this particular spell the vocal quality
as well as the words needs to be exact?"
"Well, this is all hypothesis - though I'm betting when all is said
and done DEMON is somehow involved in all this. Do you want to come over
here? I think your suit will probably protect you from the worst affects
of the snack bar food. Avoid the 'Chicken Delight' though. It's not a delight."
"I'm sorry. Did you say five singers?" Knightblade queries with
an astonished voice. "Doh, idiot, pick up a newspaper! Oh, sorry,
Cassie, I was talking to myself not you. Of course, what you're saying
makes perfect sense. Look, lunch sounds great," Knightblade says realizing
he hasn't eaten since the chocolate bomb at three AM, "I'll be by
your office in a few minutes. I'll be the guy in silver."
Approximately, ten minutes later, "Ms. Salvatore, there's a... gentleman
here to see you."
"Thank you, Monique," Cassie says, sticking her head out into
the secretary's area. "Hello, Knightblade, come on back. Watch your
head, the doorway is kind of small."
The first thing he notices about Cassandra's office is that it's tiny.
Two people can barely fit into it along with the accumulated junk that
only museum employees come across. There's an African spear in one corner,
leaning rather jauntily against an overcrammed bookshelf. Back copies of
"Archaeology Today" are strewn across the desk and the end table.
There is one other chair in the room besides the one behind the desk. It
is an overstuffed easy chair and looks very comfortable for sitting and
reading.
On her desk is a framed wedding picture. At least it looks like it is a
wedding picture. Cassie is wearing a white dress and carrying a bouquet
and Tony is wearing a suit. But instead of a minister, the two are standing
with Elvis - the young Elvis.
Knightblade picks up the photo, "Cool, it's 'Big E'. You know my cousin
met him... a couple of months ago." He sighs, "Stuff like that
always happens to him. It's really weird." He set the photo back down
to look at the papers.
There's also copy of the Sunday joint edition of the San Francisco Chronicle-Examiner
on the desk. The headline reads: "Substitute soprano snatched mid-solo."
"Here's the paper. I thought you might want to read the article. A
total of five singers were abducted last night, including the original
Christine. She was snatched before the musical began. That explains why
the doors opened so late and all the ushers looked worried. Her stand-in
is the one we all saw being kidnapped off the stage in the middle of the
musical."
"Please sit down," she adds, gesturing at the easy-chair. "I'm
going to start making some calls. Tony was going to stop by for lunch.
If I can catch him on the cellular, I'll see if he can bring take-out.
For our own gastronomical safety, we really should avoid the cafeteria
if we can."
Suddenly, Cassie starts giggling. "I just had a vision of you sitting
there with a napkin tucked in to the top part of your suit. I suppose it
really doesn't matter if you get mustard on it. I have some Windex, that
should take any mess right off."
"Actually, I never put much thought into how to eat in this thing.
I'm not sure if I can. Ah, well, I'll work something out." Knightblade
sits in the offered chair with a distinctive creak.
"Cassie, before you call Tony, I have something I need to ask both
of you. Would y'all be willing to go to PRIMUS headquarters and tell them
what you saw last night? The meeting is scheduled for 4:00. I have no idea
how to contact Protector, and I'd like someone else to be there who was
in the sewer. I'll understand if you can't make it."
Cassie drops the phone she had just picked up to call Tony on. Picking
it up from where it landed on the floor she gently puts it back in the
cradle.
"Talk to PRIMUS, well I never really thought about that. Hmm,"
she mutters, absentmindedly twirling a piece of hair. "Tony and I
talked to them right after we left you in the sewer. I kind of stretched
the truth a bit then. I told them we went down there to see if we could
help, but I didn't mention you or Protector. See, I wasn't too sure you
guys wanted to talk with PRIMUS. If I talk to them now, are they going
to crack down on me for lying? I think I'd better talk to Tony about this
first. If you don't mind me asking, do you work for PRIMUS? I mean, you
know about this 4 p.m. meeting and all."
"Great," thinks Knightblade, "alright, brain, do your stuff."
He stands up from the chair, stares at the door, and for a brief second,
Cassie sees the same light red glow come from his eyepiece that she saw
in the sewer.
Knightblade turns back to Cassie and says, "Cassie, I think I understand
your hesitation. Really, I do, and I want you to feel completely comfortable
speaking with me. Therefore...," he stops for a dramatic pause, "I
give you my word of honor that I am not acting, nor ever have acted, as
a superhero in the employ of any government, United States or otherwise."
He takes a deep breath as he finishes, "Whew, happy?"
"Moderately, now if you could explain to me who was on the grassy
knoll in Dallas, then I'd be ecstatic," Cassie says smiling. "Don't
worry, I know every hero has a secret. I don't need to know all of yours.
Thank you for telling me that much. I appreciate it."
"Actually, since we're all sharing here, I'll let you in on one of
my secrets," she says. "My hair is not really this dark, I dye
it using Ms. Clairol." With that Cassie jumps up and turns on a scruffy,
old radio tucked into the overloaded bookcase. Jazz music starts to pour
out of a single, beat-up speaker. "That was for Monique's benefit,
if she was listening," Cassie says under the cover of the music. "I'm
sure she'd love gossip like that to spread. I can see it now, 'Cassandra
Salvatore is a dye-job.' Actually, it's really my natural color,"
she adds, ruefully tugging on a piece. "You know, I always wanted
to be a redhead. Oh well."
"On to my real secret, contrary to the shambles of my office and my
general appearance, I actually have some, hmm - how do I phrase this -
unusual powers. I'm not quite sure what all I can do, but I can teleport
and I have had some luck healing people. I'm trying to get started in this
hero business, but I tell you it's not easy. They didn't offer superheroing
101 when I was in college. And, even if they did, it probably would have
been a four-credit, upper-division course, offered once every two years
at 5 p.m. on Friday nights."
"Maybe the solution to my problem is to show up in costume with you
at PRIMUS. You can say I was with you in the sewers, which is true, but
I don't have to reveal my real name and then they won't realize I lied
to them earlier. Of course, this is all conditional on me not being recognized
by the agents who interviewed my husband and I. However, I think those
guys were more interested in my chest, I doubt they even took a close look
at my face."
"Oh my god, Cassie, you're right! You do have a face. I never noticed."
Knightblade begins snickering and laughing, "Hey, do you think it's
possible that other women have faces too. I'd better alert the president.
No, wait, there's no way I could convince *him*." He starts laughing
even harder.
Cassandra utters a disgusted, "Men," and then proceeds to grab
a cushion from the chair and brain Knightblade over the head with it several
times while he is laughing.
"Just wait until you need someone to heal up your wounds, the we'll
see how funny you are mister," she tries to say, but fails miserably
because she is convulsed in laughter. It comes out sounding like:
" Just you wait mister..."
Thwack with the cushion. Swish, swish as she misses the next couple of
times.
"You're going need someone to heal.." Swish, swish, more misses.
"Those wounds..."
Laughter broken by a hiccup.
"Think you're funny don't you..." swish, swish
More laughter.
"Can't you hold still for a minute...." swish, swish
She laughs again, "Oh, I give up."
It takes a few seconds, but he eventually gets control of himself.
"Sorry. Um, that sounds fine to me. I'll need to make a couple of
phone calls to set everything up. Also, if you're unsure about your...
abilities, I may know someone you can contact. But first, who shall I say
will be joining me?"
Cassandra, who at this point has abandoned the cushion and composed herself,
turns and with as much superheroine majesty as she can summon says, "Odyssey."
She pauses as if waiting for some great display of lights and sounds at
the mention of her name, then shrugs and says, "Well, it doesn't sound
as impressive as 'Protector' but then he's got a deep voice which I think
he throws when he announces his presence."
"Just as long as I don't hear any 'more like a three-hour tour' cracks
when I say my name I'll be happy," she adds with a smile.
"Keep dreaming, Miss 'Use the Force, Knightblade'. Why you 'Odyssey'
what I've got in mind for you. It'll make you 'Iliad' ease. 'Homer' even
worse than these." Knightblade deftly ducks the incoming projectiles
as he heads out the door, "I'll be back in a second. Just as soon
as I finish my calls."
"Well, I'm back. Are you better yet?" Knightblade asks as he
enters Cassie's office.
Clearing the doorway, he sees Cassie lying on her desk with what appears
to be the African spear sticking out of her chest with a note attached
to it. Scrawled on the paper is the message, "Killed by bad puns."
Opening one eye, Cassie looks at him. "A bit melodramatic, but it
was the best I could come up with on short notice."
She pulls out the spear - which was actually stuck in the desk behind her,
props it back up against the bookcase and starts rummaging through her
desk.
"Now, shall we get to work."
"Absolutely," Knightblade says as he picks up his reading assignment
and sits back down in the chair...
When Tony arrives, Knightblade stretches out and sits up. "Ah, good,
food." He squeezes five of the books onto a (barely) clean corner
of the desk and looks at Cassie. "I'm done with these. Do you have
any more?"
So little time, so much to do, she thinks, rummaging through the desk looking
for a San Francisco map.
"A-ha!" she exclaims, pulling out a slightly dogeared map of
the Bay Area that includes a section devoted to San Francisco. "I
knew that AAA membership would eventually pay off. I wonder, can superheroes
get AAA for their company vehicles?"
Shrugging my shoulders, she goes back to work. Thank god they made us
learn rudimentary mapping skills in those archaeology classes. Consulting
the newspaper, Cassie plot the points where each of the five kidnappings
took place. Using a highlighter pen, she draws an arrow showing the abductors'
general direction of movement when they fled - if that information is available.
It's at least available from Knightblade in the case of the "Phantom"
kidnapping. She also put the date and times the abductions took place.
From this information, I'm trying to determine if there was any pattern
to the attacks. Can we narrow down a general area of San Francisco that
the kidnappers appeared to flee towards? Were all the attacks confined
to one area of the city? Probably, because most of S.F.'s vocal entertainment
takes place in one area, but it's worth a try.
Since all of the attacks took place involving female sopranos in a particular
range, are there any well-known singers - also in that vocal range- who
weren't kidnapped? It might be worth it to stake them out and watch them
in case these musical men of mayhem decide they need a spare singer. A
quintet of sopranos...hmm...five is not a particularly mystical number.
There were nine muses in Greek Mythology. Three, seven and 11 are the usual
sacred numbers in ancient cultures. Additional attacks might be a greater
possibility than I thought.
I'm not an expert on magical spells and the like, but I can read pretty
fast. In college they called me "Java girl." Just get me a pot
of espresso and look out. I can cram a lot of information in my head on
short notice. I'll ransack whatever books the museum might have on the
subject of magic, myths and ancient beliefs that involve singers. I'm reaching
here, but it's all I've got to go on.
Plus, I can call the museum's contacts for ancient artifacts. It's the
old, friend-of-a-friend routine, but it might work. Maybe someone knows
a professor or private expert I could talk to. The key to all this mystery
involves singing. It's the only thing we've found that links these women
all together.
"Here," she says, dumping a handful of books in Knightblade's
lap. "Start going through these. See if you can find anything that
mentions, singers, spells or magic."
Before she starts calling those museum contacts, Cassie gives Tony a ring.
Ring, Ring.... click, shhh...
"Hi, honey, where are you?"
"I'm right in the middle of the dry cycle at Ducks by the Bay,"
Tony yells. "Speak up I can barely hear you. Lousy phone connection...99
cent hook-up fee..."
"I'm here at the museum," Cassandra continues raising her voice.
"Knightblade is here. We've been talking about the disappearances."
"You've been talking about raising peaches?" Tony asks.
"No, the disappearances," she says in louder voice.
"Hold on a second, let me get clear of the car wash," Tony yells.
A few seconds later he continues on a much cleaner channel. "OK Knight
blade is there and you're talking about what?"
"The disappearances," Cassandra responds in a lower voice. "We're
doing some research here and I'm making some calls. Do you think you could
pick up some food and bring it back?"
"Sure, how about Chinese?"
"OK, and could you also bring that package you gave me last week,
you know the one that includes the shoes."
"Why do you want that?"
"Well, I have to stop by PRIMUS later today and I want to wear something
nice. I'll explain it all when you get here. "
"Alright," Tony says, but he doesn't sound to certain about all
of this. "I'll be there in about 45 minutes."
After twenty minutes of mapping, Cassie has managed to tangle the ruler
in her hair twice, and finally gives up, using it to secure herhair in
a bun on the back of her head. So far as she can tell, there's no particular
pattern to any of the attacks, except that 3 of the singers were dragged
to underground locations, while (as the Chronicle-Examiner noted)
two others vanished inside closed rooms, with evidence of a struggle --
and at the scene of both of these crimes, pentagrams were etched into the
floor.
Tony helps Cassie flip through the very out-of-date rolodex, locating contacts
who might be able to help them out. "What about Ralph?" he asks,
holding up his card.
"That's not a bad idea," Cassie says, mostly to herself. Ralph,
she explains to Knightblade (who is chomping on the Dim Sum) is a cryptic
friend of Uncle Alex's, who collects bizarre antiquities. It was he who
appraised the amulet.
"I'll tell you what," Tony says. "It's Sunday, and he'll
be playing golf with us this afternoon. I'll talk to him about it when
I get there." Alex and Tony have taken golfing up as their way to
"stay in shape," they say in unison, both of them patting their
stomachs. Cass has personally have come to the conclusion it's because
it's a guaranteed meal for Tony after the 18th, but he's denying it.
He kisses her and leaves, tucking the container of the two remaining egg
rolls under his arm as he strolls out.
Odyssey and Knightblade spend the rest of the afternoon before the meeting
with the PRIMUS making calls and pouring through museum files. Well, Cassie
pours over files, while Knightblade naps in the stuffed chair -- he appears
to be quite pooped. Not much is turned up, since there's nothing really
very specific to look for. She discovers there are magical ceremonies involve
chanting, though she can't pinpoint any particular group who might need
five 4-octave ranged singers.
Tony hasn't called by the time Odyssey and Knightblade leave for the PRIMUS
base in the Presidio, but that doesn't really surprise you. Ralph is a
codgy 70 year old man who can take three hours to properly tell a story.
He's probably only just now getting around to it.
"I swear you're as bad as my husband," Cassie says, eying Knightblade
in mock disdain. "Let's pop over to Little Italy for dinner. Let's
go to Enseñada for real Mexican food. The next thing you know, you'll
be asking me to teleport you out of that suit because you really have to
go to restroom and it takes you half an hour to get that thing off."
"That's odd, most women don't complain about it taking half an hour
to get that thing off... Ohh, you mean the armor."
"What are you looking at, Knightblade? And why are you smiling?"
There's a burst of golden light, kind of like concentrated sunlight and
then the office disappears only to be replaced by green foliage, trees
and a bench.
Omygod, Omygod, Omygod, Omygod, Omygod, Omygod, Omygod, Omygod, Omygod,
Omygod, Omygod, Omygod, Omygod, Omygod, Omygod, Omygod, OMYGOD!