Covert Ops

by T. R. Cameron

Rath felt the leader react and growled. He hadn’t finished with the others yet and wasn’t ready for the main man. He threw his left-hand baton into the air, snatched the flashbang on his chest bandolier, and threw it over his shoulder before he caught the baton cleanly. Gwen dimmed his vision and dampened his hearing at the pivotal moment, and when it returned, the man in front of him reeled and waved his gun around in an exceedingly dangerous manner. The troll jumped into a forward flip and stabbed him in the leg and the shoulder with his batons as he landed.

  He turned to survey the field. All four underlings had been disabled, and his target simply stared at him. He grinned. “What? Never seen a troll? Maybe should get out more.”

  The man scowled. “And I hope to never see one again. You’ll leave now if you know what’s good for you, little freak.”

  Rath twirled his batons. “Ouch. Words hurt. Be nice.”

  Faster than the troll would have anticipated and almost faster than he could see, the man drew a gun from beneath his coat and aimed it menacingly. It was large and silver and glinted with the occasional glare from a car that passed on the street. Rath processed and discarded plans and finally decided the grapnel was his best bet. He shifted his arm subtly to align it with the man’s throat and knew full well he’d only have one attempt. His assailant’s trigger finger tightened as he deactivated the safety. His face was disgustingly smug beneath his ugly hat. “Any last words, vermin?”

  Before the troll could react, a bullet bored through the man’s skull and plowed into the street behind him. Rath jerked his head up. “Gwen, find the gun.” She drew potential locations into his goggles and eliminated them one by one as she processed the available data. He redirected his aim, fired the grapnel to the top of the building, and launched himself forward. It was a simple matter to grapnel up and fly forward several times until he was higher than most of the buildings around. The AI had pinpointed the most likely location. He landed on that building, ready to investigate, when an outline appeared in his glasses. A dark figure with a large rifle across his back ran along a rooftop several buildings away.

  He dashed at top speed to the edge and launched himself into space. Focused on the pursuit, he gained slowly on the running figure and realized he was likely to reach him before his quarry ran out of rooftops. Rath felt a sudden thrill of worry. What will I do when I catch him? Seems like an excellent fighter. He shrugged mentally. Can use fighting mode. Should be good enough.

  The man stopped unexpectedly and turned to face him. In an instant, the gun was in his hands and aimed at the flying troll. He heard the sound of two shots in quick succession and felt the impacts as they struck and ruptured the ballistic fabric of the wings on his right side. He immediately careened in that direction as the ones on the opposite side worked as normal and he was forced to press the button to retract them. It was a ten-foot drop to the rooftop, and when he landed, he rolled to absorb the momentum. He scrambled to his feet. The man simply stared at him, the gun now out of sight.

  Gwen’s voice sounded surprised, which was, in itself, unexpected. “We have a comm request. It’s on a near-band frequency, which probably means it’s him.”

  The troll frowned. “Can we isolate everything else so he can’t get into it?”

  “Easily.”

  “Okay, do it. Anything seems weird, cut off.”

  “Affirmative.”

  The man’s voice had the same electronic disguise as he’d used before. “Hello, friend.”

  “Friend probably not the right word, Amadeo.”

  He laughed. “Perhaps in time. But there’s no reason for us to be enemies.”

  “You shot the Pirate Prince. And hat-man.”

  “Both criminal scum and both a sickness in this fine city.”

  Rath shook his head. “Doesn’t give the right.”

  In the distance, the figure raised his hands to the sides. “And what gives you the right, hmm? What makes you better than me in this regard?”

  He couldn’t reveal his connection to a government agency, of course. “Don’t kill. Only capture.”

  Even through the processed version of his voice, the troll heard his belief. “Some people warrant killing. And can you truly say you have never been involved in causing someone’s death? Given your nightly pursuits, I think it is unlikely. Besides, I’m not paid for captures.” There was an accent there that reminded him of one of the Rocky movies. “In any case, it is time for me to depart. I would urge you to stay away from me, but somehow, I don’t think you would listen. So, we will have to agree to disagree.”

  The man turned and immediately began to run. Before the connection dropped, he offered one last piece of advice. “But don’t follow too closely, little troll. If you leave me no other option, the next bullet will not hit only your equipment.”

  Rath lowered himself to sit cross-legged on the rooftop and watched as Amadeo sprinted into the distance. Finally, he was lost to sight, and the troll sighed. “Gwen, that person is scary. Let’s keep an eye out for him. A very well-hidden eye.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  The summons to visit the lady of Stonesreach came in the form of the emissary who appeared in sight of the building. Diana had no idea how long he’d been there when the systems alerted her to a person who watched their headquarters. She was immediately suffused with guilt over the fact that she hadn’t paid a social call to the ruler of the Kemana in some time.

  She scurried out the front door wearing her illusion necklace and ran to where he stood. He inclined his head as she slowed to a halt before him. “Agent Sheen.”

  “Emissary.”

  “You are summoned, along with those whose counsel you prize most. The lady wishes to discuss matters of mutual concern.” The level of gravity he conveyed eclipsed anything she’d previously seen from him.

  She nodded. “May we have permission to portal onto the grounds in front of the entrance?”

  “You may. Bring no weapons. We are aware that several of you possess magic, and of course, that is fine. But nothing else may be carried into the lady’s presence at this time.”

  Diana nodded again. “Understood. When would she like us there?”

  “As soon as possible, Agent Sheen.”

  She sighed inwardly. “Within the hour, then.”

  “That will be sufficient.” He gave a graceful tilt of the head that resembled a shallow bow and vanished, his departure veiled by magic as before. She looked around to see if anyone was watching and was glad she’d had the foresight to wear the illusion necklace. She’d need to find a quiet place and portal into the base, though, to avoid connecting the emissary to the coworking building.

  Diana pulled her phone out and instructed Friday to call Rath and Cara in immediately, then headed to the riverside at a run. There should be cover under one of the bridges to portal from.

  They stepped through the rift that linked the hallway that led to the garage to the broad expanse of white stone that made up the entrance area of Lady Alayne’s castle. Cara had visited previously and did not react to the elegance of the space. Rath had not and made a noise of appreciation that echoed the one she left unspoken. There is no way to come here and not be awed by what they have created.

  The doors flanked by the elves in armor had already swung open and the emissary beckoned them forward. They had taken most of the allotted hour to prepare. Diana had portaled to the house to change out of her grungy office clothes into better ones. She’d selected high black boots over denim of the same color and an asymmetrical electric blue top that hung down on one side to her thigh. She’d corralled her hair into a ponytail, then gathered Rath up. The troll had simply brushed his fur to be ready to go.

  They’d met Cara at the base. She’d chosen all black as well, with shorter boots, black denim, and a black tech top under a looser dress shirt. Her second-in-command was more relaxed than the last time Diana had seen her, and she was overjoyed at the change. That’s a good sign for what is to come. Things are on the
right track. Well, other than the fact that we have a homicidal vigilante for rent in town. Rath had told her about the man who had shot the Prince, but she was overcommitted already. The troll didn’t seem to want help, anyway, and only wanted to be sure she knew.

  They strode inside quickly and followed the emissary along the pale stone floors. He escorted them into the throne room, where Lady Alayne awaited them. She was dressed similarly to the last time they’d seen her in rich green robes and an abundance of sparkling jewels. There was a frown on her beautiful face, and Diana felt sadness well at the thought that she might have something to do with it. The elf’s otherworldly attractiveness struck at a level much deeper than conscious thought. She closed her eyes briefly to banish the effects and focus her mind.

  “Lady, thank you for the invitation to visit. How may we serve the good of the Kemana?”

  She inclined her head at them. “We believed it might be useful for you to know that the trials you face above have come to roost here in our fair city as well.”

  Diana frowned. “I’m unhappy to hear that, Lady.”

  “As are we, Agent Diana Sheen. It appears that the messages the Remembrance has seeded above have also taken root here. My people who watch for such things report that there are five separate groups of sympathizers, at a minimum, and that the word is spreading. They believe there will be more and fear it may eventually lead to action.”

  “That is deeply unfortunate, to be sure. How can we assist?”

  The elf shrugged. “The cause of this lies on the surface. You must be more vigilant in eradicating it.”

  She held her disbelieving laugh inside. Cara, however, did not. Her second-in-command kept her voice neutral when she replied, “We are doing so the best as we can, Lady Alayne. Do you have suggestions as to how we might improve?”

  A stern look appeared on the elf’s face, and Diana discovered that she had begun to take offense at the woman’s attitude. “Our perception is that you have made things worse, rather than better, by your actions. You’ve empowered their message of resistance and failed to stop them from acquiring powerful artifacts and freeing their captive members. In short, Agent Cara Binot, Agent Diana Sheen, you must now succeed where thus far, you have failed.”

  She’d expected Cara to be the one to bristle, but it was Rath who growled. He stepped forward a pace, then stopped as the emissary caught his eye. He looked at the elf. “You overstep, Lady Alayne. If you wish things above ground to improve, consider joining us there. Otherwise, do not criticize my friends.”

  Diana blinked. She’d known Rath’s speech patterns were choice rather than anything else and had teased him with the clip from The Office where one of the characters asked why one would bother using lots of words when “few word do trick.” At the time, he’d merely given an inscrutable smile and changed the subject. But this was an impressive display, both of language and of devotion. She stepped forward and rested a hand on his shoulder.

  The elf blinked as well and inclined her head again. “Perhaps I have been overly insulting. Please accept my apologies, all of you.” She looked directly at the troll. “We’ve not been introduced, although I have heard stories of your accomplishments on the lips of many. I am Lady Alayne.”

  He nodded. “Rath.”

  “Pleased to meet you, then. But my concern remains. Often, situations that exist on the surface in diffused form are far more concentrated here in the Kemana, which can lead to actions erupting here first.”

  Diana nodded. “We hear you, Lady Alayne. Please know that we are doing, and will continue to do, all that we can for you and for the people of Stonesreach.”

  The elf stared at them as if to take their measure. The moment went on longer than was comfortable, and then longer still. Finally, Lady Alayne nodded and turned to the man standing several feet away to one side. “Please give it to them.”

  The emissary frowned slightly. “My Lady, are you sure?”

  The elf sighed, clearly torn. “I am not. But that is not a decision against, on its own. Give it to them.”

  He held his hands out before him and an ornate scroll case appeared in them. He walked forward and offered it to Diana, who accepted it with appropriate reverence. As he returned to his position, Lady Alayne explained. “Inside is all our knowledge about Rhazdon’s Vengeance to assist you in your quest.”

  Diana frowned. “How did you know?”

  Lady Alayne smiled. “There is very little that happens in this place that I am unaware of, Agent Diana Sheen, especially when it involves as pivotal an individual as Nylotte.”

  She shook her head in appreciation of the elf’s machinations. “Indeed, Lady.”

  The woman waved. “Off with you. There is no time like the present to begin improving our situation.”

  The emissary escorted them out. As they prepared to step into the portal, Cara looked at Rath. “You’re something else, you know that?”

  The troll laughed. “Sometimes, people need to be reminded of who they are.”

  That inspired an unexpectedly wide grin on her second-in-command’s face. “I couldn’t have said it better myself.”

  As they stepped through the portal, Diana had the distinct impression that she was the only one missing some important key to understanding the conversation. But really, what else is new?

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Sloan stood in a bus shelter half a block away from the Italian restaurant, close enough to see the sign proclaiming “Homestyle” but far enough that he would be unlikely to be recognized by anyone going in or out. He sent a text to Mur. - No Action Yet -

  The other man replied with an hourglass icon, or in other words, “Wait.” Marcus had decided that he wanted to be a part of the event but had chosen his right-hand man, Murray, and detailed him to find a couple more to help out. Mur had successfully argued that only those already in on the plan should be involved, so it was left to the three of them.

  The initial hope had been to get the witch alone, but after several days of surveillance, they had realized that Wysse spent no time by herself. She lived with roommates and traveled in a group. There had been as few as two accompanying her. Tonight, there were four. They’d decided that to attack her after a late dinner—when the witches would all be tired and hopefully, a little slower—would offer the most potential for any unexpected events to go their way. It had the added bonus of being fairly dark and given that it was a Monday night, not too busy.

  According to the plan, he would shadow them to the parking garage, and the attack would take place in the lobby. Mur had taken position on the stairs leading up, out of the line of sight, and Marcus was one floor up, ready to race down. They’d rigged the power box with a small explosive to short it, and Sloan would detonate it with his phone to start the action. His job was to act as the spotter and join in as quickly as he could once things began.

  The witches emerged from the restaurant, Wysse in the lead. Sloan’s stomach twisted. On the one hand, she was a criminal who would kill him in an instant if a reason presented itself, and he’d already seen her kill others. On the other, being responsible for setting her up to be eliminated didn’t sit all that well with him. He’d tried to rationalize it away, aware that someone else would do it if he refused and also knowing that even if this effort went wrong, they’d try again until they succeeded. None of it assuaged his guilt, so he decided it would be best to accept what he couldn’t change and get on with it. Staying undercover always involved compromises.

  The witches were a little tipsy, and their observations about the humans they passed were loud enough to offend those being discussed and to make him feel less regret about what was to come. As they entered the lobby, he triggered the explosive and ran behind them into the suddenly darkened space.

  They’d agreed that gunfire would be a bad idea, so Mur had brought a large pipe and Marcus would rely on his fists and arms. By the time he arrived, his two comrades had evened the odds with their surprise attack—three wi
tches versus the three of them. One of the fallen women was bleeding from her skull, and another looked as if she’d received a high-intensity electrical blast from Marcus’s arm, judging by the wisps of smoke that drifted from the vicious burns that marred her skin.

  Wysse was still standing and launched an attack as he reached the door. Shadow tentacles reached out from her wand to capture Mur, lift him, and hurl him through the window and out of the lobby. Blood stained the glass, and Sloan hoped the man hadn’t cut anything vital. The nearest witch fired a force bolt at him, and he dove to avoid it with a shout and made sure to angle toward the third witch. She faced Marcus and had summoned a force shield to absorb the lightning that cascaded from his metal limb.

  Sloan rolled to his feet and barreled into her from the side, where she had no defenses. He led with a left hook and drove a knee into her stomach. As she doubled over, he dropped an elbow to the back of her head, and she collapsed. He spun sideways in time to take a force bolt in the chest. It flung him against the wall, and his head impacted with the polished stone hard enough that his vision doubled, then doubled again. He slumped, unable to get his bearings, and focused all his will on not throwing up from the way the world dipped and wavered around him.

  The rest of the fight played out like a movie as he concentrated on one of the four rotating images he saw. Marcus circled to put the witch with the force attacks between him and Wysse, which forced the witch’s tentacles to retract. He skipped in and punched the other in the throat with his metal arm, and it returned bloody and pointed in sword form. Damn, he can do that fast. I wonder how it happens. Like, servos or something maybe? I should ask him.

  He realized his mind had gone off on a tangent and yanked it back to the moment. His vision had resolved into only two images, one apparently from his left eye and one from the right. Wysse was speaking, but her words didn’t make any sense as they reached his ears. He thought he heard her say “Sarah,” and maybe “Punish,” but that was all he could discern. In reply, Marcus extended his arm toward her. She flinched and cast a shield between them, and the leader of the Remembrance humans adjusted his aim and blasted the witch Sloan had downed with lightning to kill her instantly.