Karma Girl Part 26

Shoes . . .

Sandals . . .

Strappy, red sandals . . .

KarmaGirl.

My inner voice whispered. I flashed back to my first meeting with Malefica. The ubervillain's long, red shoes tap-tap-tapped in front of my face.

"Nice sandals," I croaked. "Bulluci's fall collection?"

"Good eye," Malefica said. "Now get up. We have things to discuss."

"Carmen? Carmen, are you okay?" Henry asked. "You have a strange look on your face."

"Bulluci's fall collection," I whispered. "Bulluci's fall collection!"

"Why are you babbling on about fas.h.i.+on designers at a time like this?" Fiona growled.

I ignored her, grabbed my Rubik's Cube, and twisted it round and round in my hand. There was something else, something important swimming around in the back of my mind. I thought back, concentrating on that meeting, trying to remember every detail, every single snippet of conversation . . .

"Would you like something to drink?" Malefica asked.

"No," I said.

"Are you sure? It's Brighton's Best."

And I remembered . . .

Malefica reclined in the leather chair behind the desk. She took a long pull on her drink then set it aside.

Unless I missed my guess, the gla.s.s was a Hil.u.s.tar tumbler.

"Brighton's Best. Hil.u.s.tar tumblers. Bulluci's fall collection. That's it! That's it! That's it!" I shouted.

The pieces clicked together in my mind like a jigsaw puzzle. I grabbed Fiona's hot hands and jumped up and down with glee.

"What are you going on about? Have you finally lost what little bit of sanity that you have?" Fiona yanked her hands away.

"No," I said. "But I've just figured out a way to find out who Malefica really is."

KarmaGirl.

23.

"What are you talking about?" Fiona asked. "You've been trying to uncover Malefica's real ident.i.ty for days now with no success."

"That's because I was overlooking something. Henry, I need you to start hacking and see who's ordered red sandals from Bulluci's fall collection, Brighton's Best Scotch whiskey, and Hil.u.s.tar crystal tumblers in the last six months. And I need to know where everything was s.h.i.+pped."

"But I-"

"Just do it, Henry. Trust me."

Henry and Fiona exchanged oh-the-poor-girl-she's-finally-snapped looks. I paid them no attention.

Instead, I dug around on my desk until I found the list of the fifty richest men and women Henry had compiled for me so many weeks ago.

Ten minutes later, Henry handed me a stack of papers. "There you go."

I whipped out my blue highlighter and cross-referenced the names on the lists with the wealthiest women in Bigtime. Many of the names appeared on one or two of the lists. The upper crust of Bigtime certainly liked their whiskey, and in large quant.i.ties. The amount of hard liquor some of the more genteel widows packed away in a month shocked me. Several of them needed a ride to Alcoholics Anonymous. p.r.o.nto.

But there was only one woman who had special-ordered red sandals, whiskey, and crystal gla.s.ses in the last six months who was among the richest women in Bigtime.

Morgana Madison.

The name stunned me. Could it be? Could my boss, the owner of The Expose, really be one of the most feared ubervillains in the world? She always seemed to be somewhere else when the Triad struck. I shook my head. Seemed to be. That was the problem. Appearing at society functions and taking phone calls weren't iron-clad alibis. Phone logs could be altered, meetings could be rescheduled. During any event, Morgana could have gone off to powder her nose, slipped out of the bathroom, committed an hour's worth of crime, mischief, and mayhem, and slipped back in before anyone noticed she was missing. It would be difficult, but not impossible, to pull off. Not with Malefica's psychic powers. She could probably give someone a subtle mental command and make him think he'd seen her when he really hadn't. Or any number of other things to protect her secret ident.i.ty. Just like Chief Newman had done when he got me time off from work.

Fingers trembling, I went back through the lists and double-checked all the names. Morgana Madison. I triple-checked. Morgana.

I closed my eyes and pictured Morgana Madison and Malefica, putting the two of them side by side in my mind.

They were the same age, height, and weight. They had the same facial features and curvy figures. I thought back to the day in the newsroom when I'd exposed Tornado and the silent toast Morgana had given me. My inner voice whispered. All of a sudden I knew, I just knew Morgana was really Malefica.

"Morgana Madison is Malefica," I whispered. "Incredible."

Henry looked up from his computer. "What? What did you say?"

"Morgana Madison is Malefica. It's her. It is."

Fiona arched an eyebrow. "And you know this how?"

I held up the papers. "From these. Listen. When Malefica kidnapped me, she was wearing a new pair of KarmaGirl.

Bulluci sandals."

"So what? She has good taste. Bella Bulluci is a great designer. Even I'll admit that," Fiona said.

"But that's not all. She took me to her office and drank Brighton's Best whiskey from a Hil.u.s.tar crystal tumbler. I didn't think anything of it at the time."

"Those are pretty expensive items," Henry said, picking up on my train of thought. "Not a lot of people could afford one of them, let alone all three."

"Exactly," I beamed. "Everyone knows how much ubervillains love to flaunt their wealth. I cross-referenced the names on the list Henry compiled for me of the richest men and women in Bigtime with people who had purchased these items in the last six months. Morgana Madison is the only name that's on all of the lists."

Henry's fingers slid over the keyboard like he was playing a piano. "Let me pull up some photos of the two of them."

Seconds later, the three of us stared at pictures of Malefica that Henry had recorded at the park and a photo of Morgana Madison that had appeared in the society section of The Expose. Side by side, the resemblance was obvious.

I could have smacked myself for not seeing it earlier. For making a rookie mistake and not digging deeper into Morgana from the very beginning. I'd told Sam it was all about karma, that Malefica was in his life somewhere. It made perfect sense. Sam and Morgana hated each other in real life just as much as their alter egos did. Their business battles were just as brutal as the superhero-ubervillain duels they staged on a weekly basis.

"b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l," Fiona said. "She's been right under our noses the whole time. I even made a dress for her earlier this year. She was rather b.i.t.c.hy about the price too."

"I never even suspected it might be her," Henry said. "And I've worked at The Expose for years."

"But it is her." I pumped my fist. "Gotcha!"

Henry and I pored over the records, trying to determine exactly where the goods had been s.h.i.+pped to in hopes of locating Sam. Fiona ran off to tell Chief Newman we'd uncovered Malefica's true ident.i.ty.

This time, the slap of her shoes on the floor didn't bother me in the slightest. My headache had vanished as well.

"She's got sh.e.l.l company after sh.e.l.l company." I flipped through a stack of papers. "Look at all these corporations. She's got more branches than McDonald's."

Henry sat at the computer. His fingers glowed. "You've only got the parts I've printed out. The woman has her fingers into everything. Oil, natural gas, communications, construction. The list is endless."

"Wait a minute, wait a minute," I muttered. "I've got the shoes. She had them s.h.i.+pped to her apartment in the city to start with. From there, a courier service picked them up. They went to her office at The Expose and then out to her country home. Eventually, they arrived at the Snowdom Ice Cream Factory on the outskirts of Bigtime. You know what? She put the courier service on her credit card."

Stupid move. Ubervillains thought they were so smart. But all it took was one little receipt to blow their cover wide open.

"The ice cream factory? That place has been closed for over a year now," Henry said. "The company couldn't compete with the other big chains, all the workers were laid off, and the plant was shut down.

Tracy, the business reporter at The Expose, did a story on it. The building's been empty ever since."

I remembered the story. I closed my eyes and thought back to my first meeting with Malefica. I tried to recall every single detail of the building I'd been taken to. Concrete floors and walls, enormous steel KarmaGirl.

vats, lots of catwalks, bitter cold. I frowned. Had there been any words on the giant metal vats? Any markings or letters on the doors or floors or walls? I couldn't remember. At the time, I'd been more concerned with being dropped into the radioactive goo than my surroundings. But it could have been an ice cream factory. It had all the necessary equipment. Plus, that might explain how Frost had been able to turn it into his own personal playground.

"I think that's it," I said. "It makes sense."

"Let me pull up the deed and blueprints," Henry said.

The glow from his fingertips brightened. I peered over his shoulder at the computer screen. A series of images flashed across it.

"Okay, these are the blueprints. It's a pretty big place and covers a couple of acres. Lots of entrances and exits. There don't seem to be any buildings near it. It would be the perfect place for the Triad to hide.

Now, on to the deed and other paperwork."

A doc.u.ment popped up on the monitor. I ran my finger down the screen. "Bill of sale, estimated worth, acreage, utility hookups, blah, blah, blah. Wait. Here it is. The current owner of record of the Snowdom Ice Cream Factory is one Morgana Madison. That's it, Henry. That's where she's got him. I can feel it."

"I want to go with you," I protested. "You can't just leave me behind."

"We can and we will," Chief Newman said. "You're in no condition to go anywhere."

"I'm fine now. Do you want me to run a marathon to prove it? I will."

Chief Newman gave me a disbelieving look.

"Okay, so I couldn't run a marathon on my best day. But I do feel much better now." I really did. My headache was gone, and my vision hadn't gotten fuzzy since the chief had dumped those RID pills down my throat.

Chief Newman ignored me. The four of us stood in the equipment room. Fiona was ablaze in reddish-orange, while the chief was clad in Irish green with white accents. Now, they were Fiera and Mr. Sage, and they were ready to do battle with the Terrible Triad. Henry emerged from behind a row of lockers. A checkered, black-and-white costume covered his tall frame, and a mask complete with prescription eye goggles wrapped around his head.

"Nice costume," I said. "I didn't think that you actually wore one."

Henry shrugged. "I do. But n.o.body ever sees it since I'm in the van most of the time. Tonight, though, I'm going in with Fiera and Mr. Sage."

I itched to get in on the act. I grabbed one of Striker's swords from a nearby rack.

"I could really be of use to you guys-"

I didn't get a very good grip on the sword, and it plummeted downward. The metal weapon clanged off the floor, narrowly missing Fiera's booted foot.

Fiera grabbed the sword. "Give me that before you cut yourself." She put the weapon back in its proper place on the rack.

"You have to let me do something. I'll go crazy just sitting here waiting for you guys to come back," I whined.

"That's why I set up the big screen in the library so you can see, hear, and talk to us," Hermit said. "That way you'll know the moment we rescue Striker. The other computers have background information on Malefica, photos, stuff like that in case you wanted to investigate her more once we've gotten Striker back."

Sometimes, Hermit's efficiency was so annoying. I opened my mouth to protest, but Mr. Sage cut me off.

KarmaGirl.

"We need to focus on finding Striker. We don't need any distractions. You want us to bring him back safely, don't you? We don't need to worry about the Triad capturing you, Carmen."

He had me, and he knew it. There was nothing more in the entire world I wanted than to see Sam safe and sound again.

"Fine. I'll stay here like a good little girl and play nice. Just bring him back. Please." My heart squeezed tight. I couldn't handle having another superhero's death on my hands. Especially Striker's.

"We will, Carmen." Mr. Sage put a comforting hand on my shoulder. "Don't worry. We will."

Mr. Sage and Hermit went to the library to grab a few more pieces of equipment, leaving me alone with Fiera.

"Well, good luck," I said.

"Thanks." Fiera turned toward the door. She stopped and looked over her shoulder.

"I've never liked you, Carmen. You know that, and you know why. I thought this was all part of some plan of Malefica's, some scheme the two of you had cooked up to trick us. And when I found you with Sam, I wasn't happy about that either. But you came through for us when it really counted. You found Striker. We couldn't have done it without you. I'm sorry I thought that you were working with Malefica."

"Apology accepted." I grinned. "Now, get out there and go get the man back."

The group roared out of the underground garage a few minutes later. I settled myself in the library to wait. I wasn't happy they'd left me behind, but I understood their reasons. They didn't need to worry about someone else, especially someone without superpowers. Their sole focus should be on rescuing Striker before it was too late.

The minutes dragged by. It was after seven now. Malefica had kidnapped Striker a little over six hours ago. I tried not to think of what she might be doing to Striker at this very moment, the vicious ways she might be torturing him. But the images played over and over and over again in my mind like a CD stuck on one really bad song.

I buried my head in my hands. If anything happened to Sam, I'd never forgive myself. Never. He'd been kind to me when no one else had, when I didn't deserve it. He'd saved me from those would-be rapists.