There were a number of unconscious people on the floor and slumped over tables, open class cases, and empty air where part of the rare book collection used to be. No sign of our new Sphinx. I went in and checked to make sure the people were all right; the same gas as before. One of them was still conscious, holding a handkerchief to his face as he coughed.
    "That way!" He pointed.
    He didn't look anything like the Sphinx, so I went that way. The hall beyond the door opened up into a large landing, with stairs curving around both sides and down to the first floor. I still hadn't seen anything like enough damage to explain the noise I'd heard, but I did see a lion-masked figure running down the stairs toward the main entrance. He wasn't a hologram this time, and he had a satchel over one shoulder.
    I interrupted my monologue to Phoenix Talon and yelled, "Halt!"
    He paused, turned. "I honestly didn't think you'd be able to figure it out."
    Well, we hadn't, but anyway....
    "You can deal with the king guards," he told me. The lions that guard the staircase stood up and roared deafeningly—much to my surprise, needless to say—as Sphinx ran for the door. I hoped that the others were on their way. A lion jumped at me; I braced myself against the impact and pushed back. It landed on the marble stair with an echoing crash. Then the other one hit me, and suddenly I was lying on the floor of the BPL with a few hundred pounds of statue on my chest. Sphinx ducked out the front door with a jaunty wave.
    The lion was clearly preparing to bite my head off. I gritted my teeth and threw it out through the front door after its master. The other one was bounding down the stairs; I got up and followed. Sphinx was heading down the stairs.
    "Now that my lion has taken care of—"
    Thud, crash, as the lion landed. It got up.
    "Uh, oh."
    "You were saying?" I didn't see any means of transport awaiting him. I got a lock on his aura. If he decided to run away, I wouldn't mind at all if he led us to his lair in the process.
    Phoenix Talon arrived about then, moving with frightening speed as usual across the rooftops. He swung down to street level, the new bokken ready. "Banzai!"
    The Sphinx saw him coming in time to raise his arm with the Bracelet of Desert Storms. The bokken's hilt is insulated for obvious reasons, but Talon was still thrown back a few paces. Privateer parked his skimmer in mid-air and dropped down with a flourish of his cloak to land near the Sphinx, weapons ready. He took a step closer, about to lunge, realized that doing so might not be entirely prudent what with the lightning bolts, and stepped back again.
    Thunderbolt and Scott were closing in as well, along with a fast-reacting news helicopter.
    The Sphinx reached into a pouch on his belt and threw something into the air in my general direction—a small scarab that buzzed as it flew. The scaffolding began collapsing all around me. During a few moments of very fancy flying if I say so myself, I managed to avoid being speared by iron pipes, clubbed by boards, and having a load of steel girders land on my head. Meanwhile our quarry was sprinting for the subway station on the corner. I followed and evened us up from the lion landing on my chest.
    Phoenix Talon popped a flash, but the Sphinx had his hand up already, protecting his eyes. Privateer closed in behind him and slashed open the bag with the books, which tumbled out onto the street.
    "No! You—" He started swearing in Greek.
    "I believe you've dropped something?"
    The lions were closing in. Thunderbolt reached out to the electrical energy powering the robot lion; a lightning bolt flew from it to his hand and wrapped itself around him. It was still moving, but more slowly, and there was a big hole in the back of its head. Scott dropped down over the Sphinx, who had raised his braceleted arm. Scott absorbed the electricity harmlessly and encased the villain, who was trying to use the ancient device to shock the Plovian robot. The main danger there was that the energy would feed back through Scott's superconductive substance and into his captive, but Scott managed to direct it properly into the ground.
    "Stop that!" he ordered the thrashing man. He was remarkably strong, but if Scott had any doubts left that this wasn't Felix, they were gone; this guy wasn't nearly good enough.
    The guys finished off the lions. Phoenix Talon is really fond of explosives. The Sphinx finally accepted his defeat and stopped struggling. When Scott removed the mask, he revealed a man who looked a lot like Felix might have thirty years or so ago.
    I went looking for the source of the cracking noise I'd heard earlier. On the roof I found a black box, not terribly large, with a note taped to it in Felix's graceful old-school handwriting: Bound, preserved, leaves. BPL. Boston Public Library. Judging from what I heard, it sounded like you needed a little help. The box was just a simple noise and smoke generator.
    He'd be really annoying if he wasn't so good. And helpful.
    "Don't think this is over," the prisoner warned us as the police shoved into the wagon.
    "It's not," Talon agreed cheerfully. "You have to be indited, there's gonna be a trial...."
    "In some ways I'd be sort of disappointed if it was," Scott allowed.
    "I'll enjoy seeing you again," was his reply.
    "I hate it when they're unrepentant, it makes this so much less fun," the officer sighed. "Aren't you going to rant about how the prison will never hold you?"
    "No."
    "C'mon, rant for us...."
    That clinches it; we need to do something about the theme villain population around here. Their attitude is infecting the police department.
    The Greeks finished their tour safely, impressed by their close-up view of the Revolution's rapid action when trouble appears. Why do I have this nagging feeling that that might haunt us? Oh, right, 'cause I'm paranoid. At least according to Scott.
    Felix showed up with "his lawyer," who waved to the assembled members of the press.
    "As you can see, my client is entirely innocent, and we have to thank these noble individuals from the Revolution who are seeing justice done, and specifically the tourist whom we have in town right now." He shook Privateer's hand. "Congratulations, young man, on your stalwart detective work." He started handing out his card to anyone willing to take it. "And a comment to Miss Shapiro, since I've heard her report—you must always have an open mind. Innocent until proven guilty. These are the things that our society was based upon; remember them well. And now I must go. Thank you very much, ladies and gentlemen."
    Holly has once again trodden lightly on the correct side of libel. Her report from the morning said, "The recently arrested robber himself is none other than an employee of the Revolution, and how can one effectively police when one is employing the criminals?" Followed by a scathing diatribe on theme villains in general and their destabilizing effect on society as a whole, and how the book should be thrown at this Mr. Catt—"if he is indeed the man responsible." She's good with those caveats.

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