Bryant squinted against the sparkling sun as he strode toward the entrance to the Capitol Building. He masqueraded as a lobbyist today, complete with false identification that claimed to represent the National Corn Growers’ Association. One of the DC techs had whipped it up and delivered it with a laugh. The ID badge actually had cornstalks on either side. He had been doubtful when he saw it. “Is this a real thing?”
The tech had laughed and nodded solemnly. “It very well might be.”
He released a long sigh at the memory and tugged on his cuffs to ensure that they extended correctly below the hem of his gray pinstripe suit. A crisp white shirt and dark-blue tie rendered him anonymous among the staffers and politicos who dashed with great gravitas from place to place outside the grand structure. He passed through security without an issue and the metal detector didn’t object to either his ARES watch or the charm necklace he wore. It also missed the collapsible wand tucked along his forearm, carefully hidden from view but always ready for a quick release triggered by the sharp twist of his arm in a particular direction. It had taken some time to procure a replacement, despite Diana’s continued delivery of captured wands to him. Now, her efforts were more a gesture of affection than a practical action.
The thought of her put a smile on his face. He strode ahead like he owned the place and relied on the map projected in his glasses to get him to where he needed to be. His newly upgraded timepiece had an increased sensor ability that manifested in ghostly images in various shades of orange to represent the people around him based on the heat they generated. He made the twists and turns into the area of the building populated with various conference rooms and finally reached the secure one they always used. Today, a miracle had occurred in the form of a carafe of coffee on the serving table. He extended the watch to examine it, identified no chemical scents other than what was expected, and deemed the brew safe to drink. After the attacks that destroyed his apartment and landed Taggart in the hospital, the acting Special Agent in Charge of ARES took no chances.
He sat at the table and sipped from his cup for only a moment before he rose again to extend a hand to Senator Aaron Finley when he entered the room. Bryant was relieved when the man closed the door behind him, which signaled a solo meeting rather than one that would include the far more annoying members of the oversight committee.
The senator was in a navy power suit with a white shirt and a bright red tie. He retrieved his own heavy mug of coffee and sat across from Bryant. “I’m afraid I don’t have much time for chitchat. I have a lobbyist coming to see me.”
“What does he want?”
“She, actually, and she’s the lead champion for a defense contractor we’re using for some special work. So, half-salesperson, half-lobbyist, would be more accurate I guess.”
Bryant nodded. “But in any case, too important to give anything less than full attention to.”
“Exactly.” The man’s intense gaze met his. “So, we have a couple of things to talk about. First, the Cube is done.”
“I assumed that. Good choice.”
Finley laughed. “It’s the only possible option, really. First, secrecy failed, then the actual physical defenses failed. I imagine it’s back to the drawing board on that one.”
“In the meantime?”
The other man took a sip of his coffee and winced at the hot liquid’s burn. “Anyone we think we can handle goes to Ultramax, with damn anti-magic emitters strapped to them if we feel the need. Everyone else goes off to Trevilsom.”
He shook his head. “Harsh.”
“But necessary.”
“You’ll get no argument from me. What about Warden Murphy?”
Finley gave a small smile. “Classified. But she’ll have responsibilities commensurate with her skills.”
“Those are some hefty responsibilities.”
The smile became a wide grin. “That woman has some impressive skills.”
Bryant frowned. “Speaking of impressive women, I have a deep lack of faith in Senator Cyphret. I don’t believe she wishes us well.”
Finley had already shaken his head before he had finished the observation. “I have the same read on her, and on Tomassi and Clarke, whom you haven’t had the distinct displeasure of meeting yet.”
“You are correct. So, three clearly against?”
He nodded. “Somers definitely for, and the last one, Ekkles is something a wildcard. Every time I think I understand her, she makes a perfectly logical argument that causes me to realize everything I’ve assumed is wrong.”
Bryant laughed. “Diana can do that, too. It’s annoying, isn’t it?”
“How is she doing?”
“Personally? As you would expect, given Taggart’s hospitalization and the constant danger that surrounds her. Professionally, she’s assembled a kick-ass team that works really well together. She was undeniably the right choice for the gig.”
“Speaking of right choices, we need to talk about Taggart.”
The acting Agent in Charge shook his head. “We really don’t.”
The look of sympathy on Finley’s face disarmed him as the man said softly “Yes, we really do.” He waited, and when his companion nodded he continued. “Because, while we all want Carson to get up out of that bed and take the leadership role again, there’s no guarantee he will be able to—or even that he’ll want to.”
A laugh escaped him. “What’ll he do—retire?”
Finley shrugged. “There’s no way to know, and that’s the point. Smart organizations have backup plans.”
“And backup plans for their backup plans,” Bryant finished, one of Taggart’s favorite expressions. Dammit. I hate this. “Okay, Senator, what’s the plan?” Maybe it’ll be Murphy. That would be good.
“You’re the plan.”
He blinked and it took a moment before his sputtering brain caught up to reality. “Come again?”
Finley laughed and tapped his knuckles on the table with each word. “You. Are. The. Plan.” He leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers. “Taggart was quite clear about what should happen in the event that he could no longer lead. The list is a short one, and you’re the first name on it.”
“Okay. Shit. I really don’t want to do that.”
He laughed again. “I’m sure he cared about your wishes in the matter about as much as I do. You are needed.”
Bryant chuckled with disbelief. “You sound like him, do you know that?”
The senator nodded. “I have an unlimited amount of respect for the man. So when he says it has to be you, it has to be you.”
He sighed. “Fine. We need to find someone else to work on the expansion plans, then…” He fell silent when he realized the other man was shaking his head. “We don’t?”
Finley leaned forward again and placed his palms flat on the table. “Bryant, what I have to tell you cannot go beyond this room. Not even to your most trusted people.”
“Okay.”
“Swear it.”
Bryant’s eyes widened involuntarily. “Okay, I swear. I’ll share it with no one.”
The other man sighed. “We are in a moment of existential crisis for ARES. Half the oversight committee is very vocal about wanting it shut down. The rest of us argue against that, but where the chips will fall is still unknown. In the meantime, you need to stabilize what we have so we don’t lose any more. We have to be ready, in case.”
A chill of dread swept through him and turned the warm coffee in his stomach to sharp, frozen spikes. “In case what?”
Finley’s voice was grave. “I’ve shared all you can know right now. That’s both me and Taggart talking.” The senator rose and stuck a hand out. He stumbled up a moment later, still completely off balance from the conversation, and shook it. The other man looked him directly in the eye. “This won’t be easy. I won’t lie. It may be the hardest thing either of us has ever faced. But remember, you’re not alone. And none of us will give up while there’s an ounce of life left.”
Finley gave him a half-smile. “Special Agent.”
The trip back to the office was uneventful, and Bryant sat behind Taggart’s desk, burdened by the weight and the unreality of trying to step into his shoes. He was still in the chair a half-hour later, staring off into space while he tried to decide what task to start on first, when he was interrupted by a junior agent. The woman walked in quietly, set a wrapped parcel on the table in front of him, and departed without a word. He saw that it had been delivered by Andercarr and his name was printed on the address label.
He waved his watch over it although he knew they would’ve done a full examination already anyway. Naturally, he found nothing. He retrieved the knife Taggart kept in a drawer—bigger than a letter opener but smaller than a Bowie—and sliced the padded, tear-resistant sleeve open. A small cube clattered onto the desk, wrapped in black printed paper. He recognized the folding method of the ornamental covering, one that Taggart had shown him long before when the older man revealed his love of origami. It was as verifiable a signature as a DNA test, and his chest tightened at the sight. He poked it at the right place, and the material unfolded to reveal a solid, intricately carved wood-and-metal cube.
What the hell? Bryant turned it over and rolled the object in his hands. Maybe it’s a puzzle box? He held it up to the light and examined it from all angles but couldn’t make sense of it until he saw the tiny image in the corner. It was an ancient symbol meaning ghost or spirit. He slid a finger up his sleeve to touch his wand tip and whispered an incantation. The scent of cinnamon wafted up from the object, his personal signifier of the presence of magic. “Weirder and weirder. Where in the world would Taggart get a magic box, and why would he send it to me?” He only realized he was speaking out loud when a passerby stuck his head through the door and asked him to repeat himself.
He waved the man away, grabbed his messenger bag, and placed the cube carefully inside. His expression thoughtful, he snatched his phone up and dialed a number he had committed to memory. “Kienka, it’s Bryant. I need a secure place.”
A twenty-minute car ride later, Bryant pulled the standard-issue government sedan into a blessedly free space in a shopping area east of the city proper. He jogged toward the antique shop, barely able to keep himself from running. He’d spent the drive considering all the things the box might portend, and curiosity was eating him alive.
The entrance opened as he reached it and the Drow ushered him into a small room at the back. Before leaving, she whispered, “You owe me,” and he nodded in acknowledgment. She closed the door behind her, and he sensed the protective wards snap into place around it. Kienka could provide almost any magical item or service one could desire, including a protected space in which to do magic unwatched by prying eyes of either physical or arcane varieties.
He set the box on a tall table positioned in the center of several metal rings. He did not speak the words to activate them, knowing he didn’t need that level of warding and resistant to putting himself further in the Dark Elf’s debt. The seal around the room would be sufficient. Bryant twitched his arm in a very particular way, and the base of his wand slid into his waiting palm. He gripped it and flicked it out to full extension, then waved it over the cube and spoke in the language of the symbol on the side, imbuing the word with a magical demand that it activate. A dim blue light emerged from the top in an expanding cone and filled with a mist that coalesced into Taggart’s features.
The voice he’d despaired of ever hearing again came from the small figure. “Bryant, if you see this, then I am either dead or missing.”
Bryant chuckled. “Or incapacitated. You forgot that one, boss.” He dashed away the tear that threatened at the corner of his eye. You’re talking to a magical cube. You’ve lost it completely.
The image nodded. “Acknowledged. Or incapacitated.” Bryant blinked, confused. “For some time, I have created this simulacrum and worked with our magic techs to fill it with my knowledge and ideas. It’s certainly not me”—his familiar laugh echoed out of the tiny projection—“but it is a reasonable facsimile. Now, before we can continue, you must tell me the nickname Diana gave you.”
He groaned but realized that few people who might get their hands on the box would know him well enough to answer that particular question. “Bryant Classified.”
The figure nodded and smiled. “Very good. I presume that since we did not have an orderly transition of power from me to you, that something is amiss. Thus, it is essential you learn about the organization’s ace in the hole. Project Adonis is ARES’ emergency fallback plan.”
Chapter Four
Once Diana had returned from her training session, showered again, and dressed, it was already mid-afternoon. The transit to headquarters, even aided by the magical subway, cost her more time, and she finally arrived at work only a couple of hours before her planned departure for the group dinner that evening. She’d tried to arrange at least one social outing a week for her team, and they’d missed the last due to fallout from the attack on the Cube. As a result, it was doubly important she be clear-headed and functional tonight. Too bad Nylotte doesn’t care about that kind of thing. She snorted at her own whining and took the elevator to the fifth floor.
Cara awaited her in the conference room and had already poured her a cup of coffee. She scooped it up from the table and walked to stand beside her and gaze out over the water. The other woman sipped from her mug. “How goes it, boss?”
Diana thought her second-in-command had not quite been herself lately and was trapped in the indecision between feeling like she should push but not wanting to pry. Once again, she concluded that the situation hadn’t reached a level that required intervention, so she relegated it to the box in her mind labeled “waiting.” She sighed. “I had a call from Bryant before I came in.”
“Does he miss you?” The woman’s voice was teasing, and she continued to be amazed at how quickly the word of her burgeoning relationship with Bryant had spread since neither of them had officially told anyone about it.
“Really, who wouldn’t?” She paused for the responding laugh before she continued. “He’s worried, so we probably need to be, too.” Her companion took a slow sip of her coffee, which effectively masked any reaction, and continued to keep her face turned toward the water. Her profile offered no indication of the thoughts hiding in her head. “He says there’s some weird stuff going on within the oversight committee and that we’re in stabilizing mode. In effect, we’re no longer expanding.”
“So it’s only us, DC, Buffalo, and Hartford?”
She paused for a few fortifying sips of the bitter brew in her cup. “He didn’t specify, but I would assume Buffalo is out of the mix. The Remembrance wiped them out, so it would have to start from scratch, which doesn’t quite match the whole stabilization theme.”
Cara turned and leaned her shoulder against the window to face her squarely. “And?”
Diana sighed. “And, apparently, Taggart left a message for Bryant giving instructions for some kind of worst-case scenario response.”
“Shit. That’s heavy.”
“Plus, I don’t think he’s told me the whole story. Which, legitimately, he probably can’t since he’s the head honcho at the moment.”
The other woman chuckled softly. “Perhaps you need lessons in pillow talk, boss.”
She grinned and raised an eyebrow. “If there’s any energy left for talking, maybe you’re doing it wrong.”
That inspired a real laugh from Cara, and the sound soothed something inside her. “So, I have a line on our next hire.”
Diana gestured toward the table and moved over to fall into one of the chairs. “Hopefully, you haven’t made them an offer yet.”
The other woman gazed at her with a quizzical expression. “Of course not.”
It’s good to know someone still cares about existing procedures. She waved a hand and dismissed that part of the conversation. “Tell me.”
He was handsome and built like a truck. Diana thought he might push the size limit of some fighter planes. Maybe that’s why he flies choppers, too. “That’s quite a resume. What does he do in his spare time?”
Cara gestured toward her. “Keep paging through and you’ll see. He builds and races cars for fun.”
Diana found the images and shook her head. “He is like an advertisement for maleness from the nineteen-seventies.”
“Right?”
“So why’s he interested in moving on?”
Her companion looked momentarily uncomfortable. “I put Quinn on the task of finding a few candidates, and she pried a little deeper than I expected or intended. There is some romantic stuff that’s not quite perfect and some personality conflicts inside his unit that might make him receptive to a change.”
She raised a hand palm up. “That’s enough info for me, thanks.” She narrowed her eyes. “And don’t think I don’t see what you’re doing here.”
A mischievously innocent expression dawned on Cara’s face. “Why, whatever do you mean?”
“Hiring someone who’s an accomplished fighter and driver.”
The woman let the facade drop with a laugh. “Eventually, boss, you know we’ll need to be more mobile. I’m merely planning wisely for that future.”
Diana sighed. “Yeah, sure. Anything else from your end?” Cara shook her head. “Okay, it’s beyond time that we quit waiting around for these people to screw with us and started screwing with them instead.”
“Which people?”
She spread her hands wide as if to indicate the entire world. “Any scumbag who thinks they can use their own magic or purchased magic to make trouble in our city. So, Sloan’s group, the jerks above them, and whoever the bastard in the armor was.”
Covert Ops Page 3