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hidden red button. He punched the button, activating the new soundless tracking beam Roman and Laszlo had perfected in the lab at Romatech. He slid the heel back in place.
    Freemont’s eyes twinkled with excitement.
    Phineas smiled. Oh yeah, Queen Bitch. We’ve got you now.

Chapter Three
     
    “H ow kind of you to appear on my show,” Corky Courrant said, smiling for the camera.
    “My pleasure.” Phineas returned her smile. As far as he could tell, Corky’s makeshift studio was in the basement of a duplex somewhere in Brooklyn or Queens. They hadn’t driven far, and he’d been able to catch a glimpse of the residence after Corky’s minions had hauled him and Freemont from the back of the van.
    He sat on a tufted footstool, low to the ground to emphasize his inferior status, while next to him, Corky posed in a high-backed, ornately carved, red velvet upholstered chair. He had to crane his neck to avoid peering straight at her massive bosom, which threatened to escape her low-cut, shimmering gold gown. Her jeweled tiara and numerous rings glittered under the bright overhead lights.
    They had started the show with a recording of a trumpet fanfare befitting a queen. Corky had confided in him that she’d first heard the piece at the court of Henry VIII where she’d been one of the king’s favorites. Phineas figured she had a long history of using powerful men to get ahead.
    The wall behind them was draped in purple silk. In front of them, Rat Face worked the camera, and Blockhead held the boom suspended over Corky’s head. Across the room, Freemont perched stiffly on a metal folding chair while Dimitri aimed his automatic pistol at him. Another armed Malcontent stood by the door, and Phineas had counted three more upstairs on the ground floor. A total of seven men, but that shouldn’t be a problem. Angus was planning to hit with a dozen guys from MacKay S&I.
    Even though the mission was simple—capture Corky—a nagging fear pricked at Phineas. His orders were to stick close to Corky and to not let her get away, but he hadn’t counted on his brother being here.
    He swallowed hard, then pasted a smile back on his face. “Thank you for inviting me, Corky—”
    She kicked him in the shin.
    “Miss Corky.” Another kick. “Queen Corky.” His smile barely wavered. “Your most glorious Majesty. I’ve always been a big fan of your show.”
    “Well, of course you are.” She waved her hand in a regal fashion. “My show has always enjoyed the highest ratings of any show on DVN. Everyone adores my show. Naturally, since everyone adores me . But enough about me.”
    She gave a throaty laugh. “Let’s talk a moment about those despicable, hateful bastards who’ve been persecuting me, forcing me to take my spectacular show into hiding. I’m talking, of course, about those bottle-drinking cowards who refuse to behave like true vampires.”
    “Yes—”
    “And I’m especially referring to their ringleaders,” Corky continued. “Roman Draganesti, who invented that nasty swill he calls synthetic blood, and then he contaminated it even further with his disgusting Vampire Fusion Cuisine.” She paused, looking down her nose at Phineas. “You don’t actually enjoy that Blardonnay, do you?”
    “Shit, no.” Phineas made a face. “I can barely stomach it. But a man’s got to make a living, you know.”
    “I understand.” She patted the top of his head like he was her new pet. “Sadly, there are times when we must suffer for our art. But back to those vicious ringleaders—the worst one, without a doubt, is that wretched Angus MacKay, the head of MacKay Security and Investigation. Of course, we all know that organization is nothing more than a notorious gang of armed thugs.”
    Phineas nodded. “I’m so glad I finally got away from them. They treated me like a dog.”
    Corky gasped with indignation. “You poor man. Do tell us more.” Her smile turned vicious. “Every vile and disgusting detail.”
    “Of