The Skyscraper Thief: Doc Vandal Adventures, #7

By Dave Robinson

When the DeSoto Building is stolen on a rainy night in January, the first thing Commissioner Pennyworth does is blame Vic. From then on Doc and the team are caught in a race to save the skyscrapers of New York from cryptid invaders while home-grown Nazis try to throw a monkey wrench in the works!

This one has everything: Thousand-foot skyscrapers punching it out, daring aerial rescues, and even a French-speaking dinosaur!

Ooops I forgot. It doesn't have chocolate chip cookies because they hadn't been invented yet.

• Language: English
• Publisher: KEH Publishing
• Release date: Dec 16, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223614401

Dave Robinson

I’m Dave, and I write. I’m also a father, a reader, gamer, a comic fan, and a hockey fan. Unfortunately, there is a problem with those terms; they don’t so much describe me as label me, and the map is not the territory. Calling me a father says nothing about my relationship with my daughter and how she thinks I’m silly. It ignores the essence of the relationship for convenience. It’s the same with my love of books, comics, role-playing games, and hockey; labels only say what, not how or why. They miss all the good parts. If you want more of a biography: I was born in the UK, grew up in Canada, and have spent time in the US. I’ve been freelancing for the last seven years. Before that, and in no particular order, I’ve managed a bookstore, worked in a pawnshop, been a telephone customer service rep, and even cleaned carpets for a living. As a freelancer, I’ve done everything from simple web content, to ghostwritten novels. I’ve even written a course on trading forex online. I’ve also edited everything from whitepapers to a science fiction anthology. Right now, I'm working on the next Doc Vandal adventure.

Book preview

DOC VANDAL

in

The Skyscraper Thief

by Dave Robinson

A Doc Vandal Publication

Copyright 2023 by Dave Robinson

Cover Illustration by Kyrie Howlett

This is a work of fiction. All similarities to any persons living or dead is purely coincidental. All events, locales, and incidents are either purely the product of the author’s imagination or used for fictitious purposes.

The Doc Vandal Series

Against the Eldest Flame

Air Pirates of Krakatoa

Attacked Beneath Antarctica

Giant Robots of Tunguska

The Sunkiller Affair

The Ziggurat of Doom

The Skyscraper Thief

This novel is dedicated to Kim, never to be forgotten, and without whom I would never have written a word; to Kyrie, and to my brother Neil, who always believed I was a writer even when I didn’t. Also thanks to my late parents, Lyn Robinson, and Clive Robinson. You’re both gone now but I hope you would enjoy these adventures.

I would also like to thank Brittany Maresh and everyone who has helped me on this writing journey from the moment I first decided I wanted to create my own pulp heroes to the last word I typed; especially those who have read my works and given the kind of feedback you need to get the best out of a story.

Any errors are mine alone.

Table of Contents

One

They’ve Stolen a Skyscraper

Two

A Hole in the Ground

Three

Called on the Carpet

Four

Captured and Coughing

Five

March of the Skyscrapers

Six

Goodnight

Afterword

CHAPTER ONE

They’ve Stolen a Skyscraper

Doc Vandal looked up from his desk at the sound of Gilly’s knock; it was too early for lunch so probably a visitor. James Clark Vandal was the foremost scientific adventurer of the decade; considered by many to be the inspiration for various pulp characters, Doc was the only human born on the Moon. Raised by a cluster of artificial minds in a base that had been hidden beneath the lunar surface for almost two hundred million years, he was perhaps the single greatest physical specimen who had ever lived. He was also a very wealthy man due to his ‘invention’ of the artificial aerogel known as lyftrium, which had revolutionized lighter than air flight. Like many of his other inventions it was based on the science of the Forty-Third Archonate, the alien empire that had built the base where he was born.

He put aside the papers he had been working on. Ever since they had returned from their last adventure in Iraq, he had found his mind returning to the ziggurat. He wasn’t much of a dreamer, but since he had Joined with the Annunnaki Queen Inanna he had been dreaming of her life on the distant planet Neberu. It was a strange form of connection, but he was sure he would get used to it in time. Anyway, there was time to worry about that later; after the visitor.

Yes? Doc answered Gilly’s knock. Is there a problem?

Nope, just someone who wants to see you. Gilly Chanter’s, six foot two-inch figure filled the doorway, so that Doc couldn’t see who was behind his associate. The son of a Baptist preacher from North Carolina, Gilly was a shaven-headed Black man with an inordinate fondness for pulp literature. He was also one of Doc’s closest associates.

Doc set his pen in the stand. Bring him in.

The man who followed Gilly into the office was anything but prepossessing. About five-foot six, he was thin and pale with a stained handkerchief held to his mouth. His hair was wild, his suit old-fashioned—though scrupulously clean—and he had a folio full of loose papers tucked under his arm.

Doctor James Vandal, this is Doctor Roby Toussaint of Minneapolis.

Doc rose, but did not extend his hand. Dr. Roby Toussaint had every sign of a serious case of tuberculosis and even with his enhanced immune system, Doc wasn’t going to push things. Doctor Toussaint, what can I do for you?

Ah yes, Doctor Vandal. Toussaint paused to cough into his handkerchief. I’m coming to you because I think you’re the only one who can truly understand the importance of my vision. If you could have your servant bring in an easel, I would be happy to show you.

I can get it. Doc had a stand he used when he wanted to make notes for a large group but didn’t want to use the blackboard on the side wall.

Toussaint nodded quickly and reached into his folder, spilling more than a dozen sheets on the floor.

Doc brought the stand over, and then bent to join Toussaint and Gilly in picking up the pages. Stacking some of the pages together, he handed them to Toussaint and then stepped back to let the man organize his papers.

Does anyone want a drink? Gilly asked. I can probably rustle up some coffee or hot tea if either of you wants some?

I’ll take some Earl Grey with honey, please. Doc replied. Normally he wasn’t much for hot drinks but with today’s weather it seemed like a good idea.

That sounds good; bring me the same. Toussaint stated, not looking up from his papers.

Doc went back to his desk to wait while Toussaint fiddled with his papers. From the little Doc had seen, they seemed to have something to do with architecture. Maybe Gus would be interested. Doctor Toussaint? Do you mind if I bring in another associate as well as Mr. Chanter?

No, no, go ahead, Toussaint muttered. Whoever you think best.

Doc reached for his intercom and buzzed Gus in. Gus, there’s a Doctor Roby Toussaint here with a presentation. Would you like to listen in?

I’ll be right there, Gus rumbled. Gus’s voice was a full octave deeper than Doc’s, which was not surprising considering that he wasn’t human. Gus was a silverback gorilla whose ancestors had been enhanced by an alien entity known as the Eldest Flame. He also held at least a dozen Ph.Ds.

By the time Doctor Toussaint was done re-arranging his paperwork, both Gus and Gilly were in the room; Toussaint raised an eyebrow at the elegantly dressed gorilla, who was leaning on a very stout cane after their recent adventure in Iraq, but didn’t say anything.

Doctor Roby Toussaint, Doc introduced the two. May I present Doctor Augustus Q. Ponchartrain.

Doctor, Gus answered. Please, call me Gus.

Once everyone had their tea in hand, Doc turned to Toussaint. So, Doctor Toussaint, what do you have for us today?

Toussaint rose to his full height, and made his way back to the easel. As anyone who lives in a city knows, climate control is a perennial problem. In the winter it’s too cold, in the summer it’s too hot. Many people find their very health deteriorating purely because of the climate.

He coughed, and took another sip of his tea, which Doc conservatively estimated to be at least fifty percent honey by volume.

"Unfortunately, most buildings are not designed to deal with he full vicissitudes of the climate. My plan involves a new and improved architectural design that can deal with any weather, from flooding to blizzards. My sealed buildings can turn with the Sun to allow for maximum insolation in winter, and turn away from it in the summer.

One of my skyscrapers is equally suitable for Nome Alaska and Miami Florida.

Doc raised an eyebrow. That’s all very well and good, but what do you want from me? I’m neither an architect nor a city planner.

But you are well known as a wealthy philanthropist. Toussaint fixed Doc with a stare that was barely short of a glare. You were single-handedly responsible for revolutionizing air travel. Surely you can do the same for living spaces. With my new city and building designs we could create a new tomorrow.

I’m far from the only philanthropist in the city. Doc said softly. Why haven’t you talked to anyone else?

I have talked to others but they don’t see my vision. They keep talking about building codes and the importance of building on a strong foundation; one even suggested moving entirely into caves. My buildings are designed in dynamic tension—they move with the Sun and you can’t do that if the structure is tied to a foundation.

May I see your documents? Gus asked politely.

Toussaint started, but then he nodded. If you would like.

Gus stumped over to the easel and started looking through the documents, muttering to himself. "I don’t see it… Do those numbers really add up?

Do you mind if I borrow your slide rule? Gus glanced over at Doc. I’d like to run some numbers.

Sure. Doc pulled out the slide rule and passed it over.

Gus looked at the page, his thick stubby fingers working the slipstick almost as fast as Doc himself. The gorilla ran a few calculations then slapped the slide rule down on a side table. Don’t give him a dime. None of those buildings would last an hour in anything more than a flat calm.

Are you going to let a talking ape tell you what to do? Toussaint practically sputtered the words, his face turning the same color as a baboon’s backside. I don’t know how you trained it to talk but really?

That talking ape, as you call it, Gilly interrupted, has more doctorates than you do. I would trust his math long before yours.

So now you’re hiding behind servants? I thought you were a man of action.

I am. Doc rose back to his feet, towering over the consumptive looking Toussaint. And the action I’m taking now is to throw you and your death traps out of my home.

You’ll regret this Doc Vandal. I’ll show you!

You’ll have to show me with someone else’s money, because you’re not getting a penny of mine. Good day, Doctor Toussaint.

Doc showed the scientist to the elevator, and watched the doors close behind him.

Gus was enjoying peace and quiet for once. His teapot was full of Earl Grey, and he had his crossword in front of him. Vic and Ming had gone to the brownstone their mothers shared for Christmas Eve dinner. Gus wasn’t religious, the word had very different connotations where he had grown up, but he had come to associate the holiday with December, rather than the January date Vic’s Orthodox faith assigned to the celebration. Gus’s own wife, Kehla, was reading some military history or other with a pitcher of heavily sweetened lukewarm fruit juice beside her. Gilly was sitting on the couch reading with the Shardling.

He still didn’t have a good handle on the Shardling. The alien had been one thing Gus hadn’t expected to see when they had returned from Iraq just before New Years’. He had known Shard was, well pregnant wasn’t the right word but it was close enough, though he had to admit seeing a two-thirds scale duplicate standing beside her had been a real surprise.

According to Shard, her offspring should be fully adult within another month, at which time Shardling was intending to return to the lost Antarctic city of R’neh where Shard had spent untold millions of years locked in unending conflict with her enemy, the creature known as Not-It. Shard wanted to stay with Doc and the team, but Shardling’s interest lay more with its own history and the connection to its former space. While it was here, Shardling had been spending most of its time with Gilly. What the alien was getting from Gilly’s pulp magazines was beyond him.

Gus was just sucking his pencil while he pondered fourteen down, when the elevator opened to reveal a truly odd couple: A young silverback gorilla in a wet London Fog sharing a car with a dinosaur wearing a dripping homburg. The pencil dropped from his lips as Kehla catapulted to her feet.

Jevan! She charged her younger brother, arms wide. You didn’t tell me you were coming! And you brought the Chief! Why didn’t you write?

Once we got to the nearest post office, it didn’t seem that much further to cross The Atlantic ourselves.

Please, call me Pierre, the Chief added in a strong French accent. I have been learning the English.

Pierre, Jevan, welcome. Gus used his cane to lever himself to his feet. What brings you to our home?

It’s a long story, the younger gorilla replied.

Then it can wait until we get you sat down and a cup of tea inside you; you do drink tea, don’t you? Kehla asked Pierre.

As long as it’s not too hot, yes. The dinosaur swished his tail. Tea is one of those things we didn’t have in my youth. The plants are even more different than the animals I think.

Seeing that Pierre had hatched back in the Upper Cretaceous, he had a point. Nothing was the same, not even the length of the day, or the level of atmospheric oxygen. If Gus thought about it, today’s Earth was as much an alien planet to Pierre as it was to Shard. One of these days Gus was going to have to sit down with the dinosaur and have a good talk about the world he grew up in. If only Shard had spent more time outside that damned city of hers—imagine seeing a quarter billion years of history.

Gus, your mouth is open. Kehla smiled and kissed him on the cheek.

Yes, dear. Gus closed his mouth, and swallowed. Come in, sit down.

By the time everyone had tea, Doc and Shard had joined the group. Pierre had a wide cup with a lukewarm cup of Earl Grey—without milk as it was another thing that hadn’t existed in his youth.

So you are, how you say, older than I am? Pierre asked Shard, who was exfoliating her facial tentacles in her own cup of tea. You remember the Earth before this era?

I remember things of this world, it spun much faster when this form entered your space. I don’t remember much of past eras; this mind does not perceive temporality the same way you do. You are all so, so sequential and linear. She withdrew her tentacles from her tea. I can share my experience should you wish, but I don’t know if it would translate.

Pierre nodded, his entire body moving up and down. So the Eldest Flame said in its day.

If I understand what others have said, your Eldest Flame was no more native to this world than I. Shard twisted her head around almost completely. I fear it would have been a greater threat had it reached my R’neh.

Undoubtedly. Doc put down his tea cup. That may have been worse than had it gained the goals it sought.

Enough about the Flame, please. Jevan had a tall glass of fruit juice and was working his way through a plate of Ming’s oatmeal raisin cookies. I don’t want nightmares tonight.

Then eat fewer cookies, Kehla told her brother. You know what happens when you overeat.

I wake you up. Jevan winked.

Why don’t you tell us what brought you to America. Gus tried to intervene before his wife got into an argument with her brother. He wanted to sleep tonight.

I think it’s called a ship? Pierre chimed in. "That is the same as un navire? Non?"

"Oui, Doc replied before switching back to English. Now that we have established your mode of transportation; what was the reason you came to America?"

Other than to see me, Kehla put in.

We need help, Jevan explained. Even with the help of Pierre and his people, the survivors of Pongo City are having difficulty surviving in the jungles of Africa. We don’t miss the Eldest Flame, but we need help. We are city folk without a city.

What do you want from us? Kehla asked. Gus isn’t a construction worker.

But your friend Doc is a miracle worker, Jevan said seriously. Also, he destroyed our home.

I’m not going to say no, Doc answered. But I’m not going to say yes, yet either. Give me a few days to think about things and I’ll see what I can do. It’s not like I can snap my fingers and build a city six and a half thousand miles away.

Pierre’s tail shivered. I expected nothing more.

Kehla finished her own juice and then took the plate of cookies from Jevan. Let’s find you two somewhere to sleep before you finish all the cookies and there are none left for Vic.

Vic will understand, she likes me. Jevan’s innocent look wouldn’t have fooled his own mother, and it obviously didn’t fool Gus’s wife.

Vic may like you, but Ming’s the one who made her the cookies and Vic loves Ming.

Vic found a man who’s better than Doc? Jevan’s eyebrows went up as his hand extended towards the plate—though not fast enough to beat Kehla.

Ming is a woman, Gus explained. If that’s what you were hoping you’ve come up short in two categories, not just one.

Jevan’s face fell, and it was all Gus could do not to laugh out loud. Vic was going to love this. Hell, Ming was going to love this. Jevan better be on his best behavior or there were definitely not going to be any more cookies for him.

The