Blink of an Eye
1
Wally Garret jogged around Cutter Bay on his morning patrol. He had inherited the ability to move as fast as he could think from his father. Both men had adopted the masked identity of the Blinker.
Wally conceded that the name was ridiculous, even dated. It also fit the two of them since they moved faster than the eye.
His father had belonged to the Guardians of Justice during the war. After the end, he had retired for the most part as a superhero. He still defended Cutter Bay, sometimes the world, but he did it without using his mask, or the world's knowing.
The original Blinker had vanished as suddenly as he appeared for all intents and purposes.
Wally stopped a couple of robberies, a fire, and a cat from falling out of a tree. Everyone knew that he was the second Blinker. It gave him an illusion of celebrity even though he was broke more often than not.
He went by his apartment for a shower and a change of clothes before running to meet his fiancee Jean Kelly. She was a marine archaeologist for Hexton University. Lunch was the one time they got together to talk about their interests, and plans for later.
Jean hired him sometimes to look out for an expedition, though she knew he would do it for free. It allowed him to have some income on his own when he wasn't saving the world.
2
His name was Bobby Rizzo. He hated the fact that the old guys called him Ratso. He didn't know where the nickname was from, nor did he care. It was just a source of irritation added to the other things that rankled him.
Bobby checked the dials on the charger in his bedroom closet. He had scraped together enough money to buy the specialized equipment from a dealer in exotic weaponry. His specialty was the bank robbery and he wanted an edge over any cop who might show up. The charger was supposed to allow him a clean shot and fast getaway when he was on the job.
He had tested it three times, and it had worked well. He devoted time to learning how to maintain it, even build copies if he needed to do it. He had always been good with his hands, but preferred quick loot to working his way up a company ladder.
Bobby pulled the insulated blue coverall on, buckling the front closed before pulling on the heavy gauntlets that would protect his hands. He pulled on the power pack and amplifier, tightening the straps until they were comfortable to him. He checked the power leads from his gloves to the energy source on his back. Everything looked good.
Bobby picked up the helmet that went with the specialized machinery. He adjusted the fit, made sure the eye covers would protect his eyes when he started using the devices. He didn't want to be blind if things went wrong.
Everything seemed normal.
All he had to do was power up.
Bobby pressed the thumb switches on the gauntlets. The room turned cold, the air pushed outward in a fog. Frost drifted over the wooden furniture as he went to the window of the bedroom. An alley waited below. He climbed through the window and dropped toward the asphalt below. Ice appeared under his feet allowing him to slide out of the alley toward his goal. Cars and people seemed to be standing still as he swept by.
3
Wally Garret strolled into Roberto's, a small deli off campus, with seconds to spare. He was working on his lax attitude about being on time. Being one of the fastest men in the world was awesome, but he rarely met any deadline for any project he was working.
Jean Kelly, his normal girlfriend, was the opposite. She was always early for any appointment, any deadline, anything she planned to do by a certain time. She chided him on the irony of being so fast but always late. It wasn't exactly a bone of contention between them, but Wally knew it was because he was a procrastinator at heart, despite his natural ability.
Since they met for lunch almost every day, Wally decided that he would be on time except for any emergency he might encounter that needed his special touch. So far he had managed to show up on the dot every day since he had made his commitment.
Wally waved at Jean when he saw her already at their table. Her lunch was on a tray in front of her, but she hadn't had time to start eating yet. He quickly went through the line, invisibly making his cold sandwich and assembling the rest of his lunch. He paid the cashier at the end of the line with a smile.
Someone had tried to poison Wally a few years before at another restaurant where he used to meet Jean. Ever since, the couple met at different places, and Wally made his own before the wait staff and cooks knew that he was doing it.
"What's going on, beautiful?," Wally asked as he sat down across from Jean.
"Nothing much," said Jean. "The department is waiting for a grant to continue searching the waters off the coast. We think we might get it thanks to that thing you found at the Almagordo wreck."
"I think that was a one of a kind thing," said Wally. He took a bite from his sandwich, chewed carefully. "What we saw was probably a solo event."
"I know," said Jean, dipping a french fry in a mound of ketchup. "Gunther is looking at it as a paid vacation to poke around other known places. Wishful thinking is what we think is behind this, but we want to have a small expedition to see how much damage was done to the ocean bottom."
"Sorry about that," Wally said. "That guy we picked up lost his boat too. I haven't seen him around so he might have left town."
Jean nodded. A man named Cory Chase had been present on another boat when Gunther, Jean, and Wally had sailed out to look at the sunken ship. An enormous serpent had attacked the two boats. Chase had demonstrated incredible strength, assisting Wally in dealing with the sudden menace.
"I'll let you know what happens," Jean said. "Maybe we can get you a berth so you can go along with us just in case."
Wally smiled at the thought. He knew that his speed had barely helped stop that first monster. They should get a berth for the Leaguer in case there was another one waiting at the bottom of the bay.
4
Bobby Rizzo enjoyed the speed provided by his equipment. He didn't understand the principles involved, nor did he care. He was only interested in what it could do for him. Robbing banks seemed to be a simple solution to getting rich doing something he liked doing.
He skated along the street to the bank he had cased out the day before. He knew the guard should be on his right when he reached the front door. He raised his hand, pointing the projector on the back his hand where he thought the old man should be as he used the left projector to punch the front door down with a cascade of ice. The guard appeared as he approached on his slide. One clench of the control and the man reeled away in an overcoat of white.
"This is a robbery," Bobby said. "Tellers, get away from your tills and raise your hands. Everyone else, get down on the floor."
Everyone gaped at the blue villain, frozen in place by surprise.
"Are you deaf?," Bobby asked, spraying the ceiling with his projectors. "Get on the floor now!"
The customers complied, some crying, some glaring at the ice bandit in anger, but they did it which is what Bobby wanted. He froze them to the floor, barely leaving a space to that the people could breathe.
"You tellers, line up against the wall," Bobby commanded. "I'm not going to tell you twice."
Bobby spotted a man in the manager's office, talking on the phone. He pointed and blasted the window with ice shards to the man's left to let him know his actions were not approved. The manager fell behind his desk. Bobby was unsure if he had hit the man, but hoped that had bought some more time.
Bobby froze the tellers to the wall quickly, then went around to where the tills waited for him to empty them into a bag hooked to his waist. He left the change as he slid over to the vault. He reminded himself not to be greedy as he grabbed what cash he could carry and dumped that into his bag. He didn't know how much his take was, but hoped it was in the thousands of dollars.
Sirens told him he had exhausted his time. Bobby fled out the way he had entered, sliding down the street on a sheet of ice. He was faster than any police car, and was gone by the time the first blue and white rolled to a stop in front of the wrecked building.
Bobby stopped with his slide when he was sure he was clear of the first stages of the dragnet they would be throwing out for him. He decided to stash the loot in the makeshift vault he had built under his apartment complex. He had used the ice guns to dig a tunnel from the building's basement to another building two blocks away. He concealed the entrances at either end with a storage locker.
Time to dump his gear and money until things had quieted down.
5
Wally Garret stood outside of the robbed bank. He had come across the scene during his afternoon patrol. He watched how the police worked, hands in his pockets. Listening to the witnesses put the time of the robbery when he and Jean were having lunch across town.
Wally knew that he could have stopped the robber in the amount of time it took for waiters to bring their lunch to the table.
Finally one of the detectives noticed Wally standing there inside the yellow line. He stalked forward, pulling latex gloves off his hands.
"Is there something I can do for you?," he said. "You're violating a crime scene."
Wally couldn't tell if the man didn't know him in his civvies, or if he was just pursuing his duty. He knew that he wouldn't like some guy standing where he needed to move people and equipment through. He had gotten too used to the police force knowing him, and helping him out on difficult cases.
He was better at stopping disasters than investigating crimes, and solving mysteries.
"I was wondering what had happened," Wally said, sticking out his hand. "My name is Wally Garret."
The detective looked at the hand for a long moment, before shaking it. Recognition of the name didn't cross his face, so obviously he didn't follow the news.
"A guy ripped off the bank," the detective said. "Move along. Read about it in the paper."
"You wouldn't happen to know what this guy looked like?," Wally asked.
"I don't think that's any of your business," said the detective.
"Good luck then," said Wally, smiling.
The detective started to turn away, before he realized he was suddenly alone in front of a wind that rolled away from the building. He wrote down the name of his visitor, wondering if he had made mistake by not being forthcoming with the man.
Wally roamed the streets invisibly as he went over what he had seen at the crime site. Everything had been wet, with a small pool of water around the entrance. The victims were wrapped in blankets from being wet.
Wally hoped it wasn't Wavemore on the loose again. Their last duel had flooded downtown for three days. Still, a simple bank robbery seemed off from his usual style. The water man liked to rob jewelry houses and museums.
Wally finished his patrol, wondering what he could do next.
6
Bobby Rizzo sipped some soda from the almost empty can in his hand as he stared out over the skyline visible from the roof of his building. The news and papers had focused on his first robbery, comparing it to the jobs his old man used to do before he was caught. Sooner or later the cops would start looking for any living relative who could know about the ice generators.
That was why he had created the second identity he lived under. He would tell the cops his old man's reputation had made life a living hell, but the real reason was to prevent them from coming after him so quick. He had looked at things from all sides, and thought that excuse was the best reply he could offer to any questioning. When they asked why he didn't come forward, he would say he didn't want to be involved.
He would be a good citizen.
Of course he would wait until some of the noise had died down before doing another job. His gear made him fast, but he knew he wasn't as fast the Blinker. So he would take the time to see how close the cops were getting to him before he risked another robbery. Until then he had enough money to live off of, and his pack and costume was hidden away from his living quarters. Additionally he had hidden spare packs out of town in case he got busted wearing the one he was using.
There were other villains running loose. As long as he was patient, the cops and the FBI would turn their attention to guys trying to make a name for themselves sooner or later. The one thing he needed to be wary of was the Blinker confronting him while he was at work. That would be trouble.
Bobby placed the empty can beside his lawn chair, reached in the cooler on the other side, and popped the top off another one. His old man became an alcoholic when he turned out to be a failure at his chosen profession. That made Bobby dislike any alcohol, so he stuck to sodas and tea for his drinking pleasure. He knew people but didn't consider them friends. That would let them too close to his secret.
He didn't want to be one of those guys whose ex-girlfriend that rats them out when they get a big score and don't want to spend the money. He had seen that happen too often for comfort. So he sometimes picked a woman up for a one night stand, then got rid of her as fast as he could. He wasn't looking for commitment yet.
Maybe when he was an extremely respectable member of high society, he would consider trying to buy a trophy wife. He wouldn't tell her jack about how he made his money. That would be asking for it. When he did find someone, he would be ready to hang up the ice guns and retire.
Until that happened, he would knock over a couple more banks and then leave town as carefully as possible.
7
Wally Garret spent some time at the Cutter Bay Sentinel after his evening patrol. The reading only took a few seconds as he read every report he could about cold using villains operating in the city. The list wasn't extensive.
A guy called Cold Front stood out, and Wally remembered that the newspaper had connected this earlier villain to the second one with the use of the same type of weapon. He had been convicted of theft several times, and had recently died. His obituary didn't mention any surviving relatives.
Wally made sure everything was back in order before leaving the newspaper morgue. The police had probably already started looking into the possible connection to the original ice bandit. There wasn't much he could do to help as far as interviewing associates that might know something.
Wally jogged to the hall of records. Everything was computerized, but paperwork was still filed and kept in storage in case something happened to the system. He sped by a security guard making sure no one tried to break in and alter the records, or do an illegal search like the speedster intended to do.
Wally started with the death records, using the story from the paper to pinpoint the actual time. He checked for relatives on the certificate, noting the name of the man's widow as next of kin. He searched through the documents for anything with the same name on it. In a matter of seconds he turned up a marriage certificate, and a birth certificate for a son. There was no current address for either the forgotten wife, or the unknown offspring.
That didn't daunt Wally.
He searched the files some more. A death certificate for Mrs. Rizzo turned up, but nothing for the boy. That usually meant that property taxes had not been paid, so he didn't own a car, or a house. A visit to the DMV would probably be fruitless.
Wally streaked out of the building. Maybe the local utilities, or phone company could help him out. Then he could check apartment rentals for any trace of the lost son. Wally had no idea what he would say when he did find the guy.
A relative was a logical suspect, but it could still be wrong if he didn't turn up any evidence.
8
Bobby Rizzo went to work, watched television, cased his next two jobs carefully. He kept his head down and avoided any run-in with the law almost religiously. The last thing he wanted was to have his name loaded in the system for some petty beef.
Bobby knew the Blinker had joined the chase, but felt that his second identity was protecting him for the moment. He would pull these next two jobs, lie low, and slowly pull up stakes. Maybe he would head west to Reagan City, or the West Coast.
He would have plenty of time to plan his escape once his money was secured.
Bobby made sure his equipment was in working order as he waited for the speedster to leave town. It wouldn't give him much of a window to operate in, but he could perhaps do the job and get back under cover before the city's only hero could find out what was going on and try to save the day.
The Blinker was fast, but he could only act on what he knew. His speed wouldn't help if Bobby could do the job and stash his gear before he was told what was happening. All that was needed was a good time to do the deed.
Bobby finally saw his chance when he spotted the Blinker's face in a news story about a marine expedition off the coast. The actual story didn't state whether or not Garret was going. There was a good chance that he would be gone, and Bobby decided to bank on it.
The morning the expedition left the harbor, Bobby made sure his equipment was in working order and donned his Cold Front guise in his secret room. He snuck out of his building, and headed for his first bank as fast as his ice slide could carry him. A quick in and out was what he had planned in case the Blinker was trying to lure him out so they could have a confrontation.
Bobby reached the door to his target a few minutes after leaving his bolt hole. He sprayed a cloud of ice over the room as he entered. That made everyone duck long enough for him to jump the counter. He clubbed one of the tellers that wasn't moving fast enough out of his way. Three ice blasts opened the drawers so that he could scoop the money out in a carry bag.
Bobby made sure no one was close enough to get in his way as he slid to the vault. A minute of high intensity blasting weakened the steel door enough for him to smash through with his shoulder. Bobby grabbed the ready cash and stuffed it in his bag, counting the seconds in his head. He left the vault with the minimum he could carry.
Bobby blasted more ice around the room to make sure no one thought about being a hero as he slid into the street and headed back toward his hideout. He used the roofs to try and throw anyone who might try to catch him off his trail. He would switch to using cover if he saw a helicopter trying to trail him.
9
Wally Garret tied the mooring rope of a mini submarine to a cleat at the stern of the Hexton University's Sea Princess II. Gunther was doing the same thing at the bow, tying the Explorer to the side of the ship for the night. Jean had taken the small submersible under to explore some of the wrecks Cutter Bay was famous for. They had identified several new wrecks on the bottom of the sea.
Wally was supposed to take a closer look in the morning with his speed. He should be able check each one in a matter of seconds before the pressure hurt him too much. Then any artifacts he could catalogue would be added to the master list secured by the University. He might be able to salvage some of the smaller things if he was careful.
A white ship approached from Cutter Bay. A moment's examination showed it was a Coast Guard cutter. The Sea Princess II's crew watched the boat cruise toward their anchor point, slowing as it drew along the clear side of the cruiser. A man in a dark suit and long coat stood on the forward deck, evidently waiting for the two ships to get close enough to touch.
"I wonder what's up," said Jean, sunglasses reflecting the setting sun.
"Another bank robbery," said Wally. "That guy is wearing an FBI ID card on the front of his jacket."
Jean nodded, spotting the white card after Wally pointed it out. His eyes were like an eagle's.
"Let me go over and talk to him before he grabs a bull horn to call me," said Wally. "I'll be back as soon I can."
"Be careful," Jean said. "This Cold Front guy might be a lot more dangerous than he looks."
"Always," said Wally.
Wally checked his knot, then shimmered as he appeared on the deck of the Coast Guard ship. He crossed his arms as the crew shifted back from his sudden reappearance on their deck.
"What's up?," Wally said.
"I'm Special Agent Canfield," the FBI man said, holding out his hand. It was dry and firm when Wally shook it. "I wanted to talk to you about this new Cold Front. He got away from another robbery today."
"What have you been able to find out about him?," Wally asked.
"Nothing," said Canfield.
"Look," said Wally. "Let's talk at your office. I'm sure that there's something there that will point us in the right direction. You FBI guys have files on everybody."
"I'll ask the captain to head to shore," Canfield said.
"I prefer to walk," said Wally, reaching out with his hand. Suddenly the two men stood in front of the Federal Building before Canfield could draw back from the touch.
"Don't do that again," Canfield said, straightening his jacket. "But you are as fast as advertised."
"My dad is even faster," said Wally, smiling. "Let's go look at your files."
Canfield led the way to the elevator, waving Wally pass the security checkpoint as they went. The cab seemed to take forever, but finally the doors opened, and they were able to ride up to the fifth floor where the local branch of the Bureau made its home. It looked like any police squad room that Wally had visited in the past, except maybe it was a little cleaner and more organized than he was used to seeing.
"What we have is in here," Canfield said, leading the way to an interrogation room that held a bulletin board full of pictures. "The reason we called is your dad dealt with a guy who used the same M.O., and since we couldn't get in touch with him, we hoped you might have heard something that we can use as a clue."
Wally took a few seconds to search the material with his blinding speed. He did it again to make sure he had read everything and had it straight in his head before saying anything.
"I don't see any mention of his son here," Wally said. "I don't know how important that is, but you guys know more about Rizzo than I do."
"The original Cold Front had a son?," Canfield said. "How do you know that?"
"I did a record check at the courthouse when I heard he was operating," said Wally. "There's a birth certificate filed, but I couldn't find anything else."
"That's the best lead we've had," said Canfield, reaching for a phone. "I don't think anyone knew about it. Hold on."
Wally waited as the agent started a record check on marriage licenses, divorce decrees, and birth certificates. If the paperwork was filed, someone would find it and report back to him. It might take hours of searching to find that one piece of evidence needed if it wasn't in a computer databank somewhere.
"How useful is it to know he had a son?," Wally asked.
"Extremely," said Canfield. "Most of these second generation guys that we arrest inherited their powers, and equipment from their parents. There's a good chance that this new guy got his ice generator from the original because they were relatives. Since Rizzo didn't have any known family ties, this might be the one link we need to put us on the right track."
"Glad to be of help," said Wally. "Is there anything else before I get back to the expedition?"
"Could you help us with a trap?," said Canfield. "Cold Front obviously saw that you were going to be on the ocean, so he struck because he knew you would be out of reach. Maybe we can use that to our advantage."
"Set a trap for him?," said Wally, holding his chin with one hand. "I'm in. I'll bring Gunther and Jean up to speed on the plan. How do you want to do this? A new wreck beyond the normal range? I could be out to sea for days, maybe weeks."
"Sounds good," said Canfield, smiling for the first time.
10
Wally Garret paced the confines of his apartment. It had only taken a few minutes to fill in Jean and Gunther, a few hours to arrange a press conference, and a briefing on the supposed new find out of the bay area. All he could now was wait for the second Cold Front to rob his next bank, and try to catch him before he disappeared.
Trying to catch the guy might be more accurate than Wally thought at the moment. The old files had given him a general idea of the powers the equipment had.
The police scanner announced the various calls the police were handling. As soon as a report of Cold Front in action came through, Wally could rocket over to confront him before he could get away. It would be ice versus speed then.
Wally walked the same path a thousand more times before he heard what he had been waiting on. He smiled as he pulled on the protective red mask he wore in action. Time to talk to the guy face to face. He vanished from his living room, heading to the source of the disturbance.
Wally paused when he reached the bank Cold Front had just robbed. Ice covered the inside of the building. A police car rested in a store window, ice daggers puncturing its body. A pile of ice held the cops down.
No sign of the villain.
Wally saw a trail of ice leading away from the trapped policemen. He took a moment to melt the ice around them before following the fading trail of melting ice. An eye blink later, he spotted the blue-white costume of the ice bandit. Another eye blink, he shoved the sliding villain into a wall to stop his escape.
"I knew it was too good to be true," Cold Front said from the sidewalk. "I should have known you were laying a trap."
"Why don't you give it up, Rizzo?," Wally said. "You can cop a plea and get out in twenty-five years, and live a normal life."
"Cop this, butt-head," Rizzo said, blasting around him with his ice pack. A storm cut off visibility as ice and snow reached out. Wally stepped out of the freezing zone, waving his arms in front of him. That caused a wind to force the sudden bad weather to fall short of where he was standing.
Cold Front lifted out of the top of the fog. Ice bullets glittered as they slashed down at where the Blinker stood. He didn't expect to do anything but keep the hero back as he created a slick mountain of ice to lift him out of the street. It would be child's play to use the roof tops, try to get cover so he could change clothes. Stealth would get him clear if he could buy enough seconds to elude his lightning fast hound.
Wally let the missiles slide by and chew up the road as he rushed the up thrusting ice. His speed should allow him to melt it with a few seconds of work. Cold Front would crash to the street, and be taken off guard enough for an easy capture.
It sounded good, but would it work?
Wally began vibrating as he grabbed the expanding ice pile. He vanished inside the sudden hill, heat rushing from his body, creating steam. He came out the other side, looking up to catch sight of his new opponent in case he had to catch the man. Cold Front was gone.
The center of the hill collapsed in a small river as Wally scaled the building close to where the top of the pile used to be. Cold Front fired another stream of missiles as he jumped to the next building. He slid across the next roof on his ice stream as the Blinker ducked and dodged. Movement was his only chance to escape, if he could just shackle the speedster for the few precious minutes he needed.
Wally decided that he needed to outflank his icy enemy. He ran a quick circle across the adjacent roofs to get in front of the cold bandit. He waited for his chance as the second Cold Front fired behind him as he headed toward the edge of the buildings leading to the bay.
Water might give him enough of an advantage to escape.
Rizzo glanced behind him, trying to keep his fast enemy at a distance. He stumbled to a stop as his equipment dropped to the rooftop without him.
"Game over," said Wally, trussing Rizzo up in a blink of an eye. "Time to go to jail."
epilogue
Wally Garret stood in the bow of Gunther's boat, arm around Jean Kelly's waist as he stared at the endless ocean. Cutter Bay was thrilled that its newest criminal mastermind was behind bars even if all of the loot had not been recovered by the police and FBI. Wally had got a pat on the back, and a public commendation from the government for his part in Cold Front's capture.
"Ready for some dive time?," Jean asked. "Gunther will drop anchor in a few minutes and we can get wet."
"That would be great," said Wally. "It's good to get away from the hustle and bustle, you know?"
"All of your adoring fans too," Jean said, laughing.
"I've gotten to where I hate chicken Kiev," said Wally. "That's all they serve at those dinners."
"I'll cook some fish stew tonight when we are done," Jean promised. "Maybe throw in a salad on top of it."
The boat cut its engines, moving forward on momentum, until the anchor hit bottom. The waves gently lapped against the hull as Gunther checked his maps and instruments. He nodded at what they told him. This should be the spot.
"Let's get our gear on, and start down with the cameras," Jean said, stepping away from the circle of his arm. The scuba gear was in the stern, packed in a storage locker. She had only taken one step before Wally flickered into his own air supply, and held hers out for her to take. "Being the fastest man alive doesn't require demonstrations."
"Second fastest man alive," Wally said smiling, as she took the gear and strapped it on over the blue and black wetsuit she wore. "Dad still laps me on our yearly race."
"Grump, grump, grump," Jean said.
The two walked to the rails in their gear. They waited for Gunther to give them the signal, before stepping over the side, and plunging into the water. The couple made sure everything was in order before diving under the ocean's surface. Some undiscovered wreck was waiting for them to list it on the marine map for the university.
On the other hand, who needed an excuse to be together, when it was what they wanted?