Marvel Novel Series 06 - Iron Man - And Call My Killer ... Modok! by William Rotsler

Author:William Rotsler [Rotsler, William]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 0671820893
Publisher: Pocket Books
Published: 1979-06-16T07:00:00+00:00

Nine

The SHIELD helicarrier was a master achievement, a billion-dollar flying fortress and laboratory. It came west, from over rural Pennsylvania, to meet Sitwell’s jet helicopter over New Jersey. Almost at the same time, Iron Man’s crimson- and gold-form was detected streaking through the late-night skies by the ever-vigilant guardians of the airborne command post.

Iron Man came to a halt on the landing deck next to Jasper’s grounded chopper and the two men went below decks together. Iron Man strode ahead, his armored feet making a clanging rhythm on the metal flooring. He knew right where to go—the command center.

“So we’ve got to pull your chestnuts out of the fire, huh?” Nick Fury said, shifting his cigar stump from one side of his mouth to the other.

Iron Man said nothing in reply, but strode on past him to a large telemap, with small, moving lights indicating the location of the helicarrier’s aircraft. “That’s right,” Fury said, taking out his cigar only long enough to spit into an old-fashioned brass spittoon. “Soon as Jasper here called, I sent out half of the pilots on patrol.”

Iron Man turned and took a long look at his old companion-in-arms. Dressed in his usual black, strung with equipment belts and weapons, he was—as always—combat ready. Also, as always, he was unshaven. His excuse varied, but it was usually that he didn’t have time. That excuse people could believe, for SHIELD was a twenty-four-hour organization, ready to go and fight wherever and whenever needed.

He wore the same eye patch, Iron Man noted, covering an eye lost in service in World War II, when he had been the toughest of infantry noncoms. But now he was an officer, a colonel, and one of the toughest and most skilled fighters Iron Man had ever known. Behind the impassive golden mask, Tony Stark smiled. He knew one thing: he never wanted Nick Fury after him!

“Made some calls, too,” Fury said, throwing himself into a metal chair bolted to the deck. “Called in a few favors, collected a little intelligence about our adversaries in good ol’ AIM.” Fury chuckled roughly and repeated the word, “Adversaries.” He took out his cigar butt and looked at it critically, then stuck it back in. “Dirty no-good back-stabbin’ freaks, that’s what they are.”

“We know how you feel, Nick,” Iron Man said. “What’s the intelligence?”

“AIM’s in trouble. And we’re the cause,” he added with a leer. “SHIELD, you, The Avengers, the common citizen who won’t go for one of their hypes or cons. But mostly us, the action arm. We’ve been smashing up their operations wherever we find them. And we’ve been hurting the finks—first and second generation, both. Not only actual AIM operations, but other criminal setups, outfits that have been buying equipment from them. Even small-time operators, three- and four-man gangs that buy plans from them to rob banks or rip off some computer-run outfit.”

“They broke the security code on Stark International’s secret data file,” Jasper Sitwell said. “I’ve put a temporary Langley-Ten puzzle code on the computer,” he said to Iron Man.

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