The Operative : A Division 13 Story

by Orlando A. Sanchez

  “I trust you are as resourceful as we hear. If not, we will say a word in your memory.”

  I nodded. “Fair enough. How soon can I get to Haven?”

  “Now.”

  TWENTY

  GRACE POINTED TO a pod sitting next to the platform. It was about twenty-five feet long, half the size of a regular subway car. Instead of the rectangular shape most of the subways used, this one was a true cylinder with rounded ends. I noticed the lack of wheels and wondered how exactly it was going to get me to Haven.

  “So how exactly does this work or is that a Beach secret?”

  “You’ve heard of a hyperloop?” Grace moved closer to the pod as she spoke. She placed a hand on its side and a door slid open. “Think of this as a magical hyperloop.”

  Honor handed me a set of keys and nodded. “The Duster will be at the Haven garage waiting for you. Don’t forget, you’ll need to calibrate the biometrics. Give Roxanne my regards and try not to get yourself killed,” he said with a wry smile.

  “Sure, I’ll tell her if I’m in the mood for pain.” I pocketed the keys. Honor and Roxanne had unresolved issues. Something about being on opposing sides during a few of the conflicts in the supernatural war. That and the fact that Honor had erased several sorcerers deemed too dangerous to practice magic meant they weren’t exactly on friendly terms.

  “Get out of Haven in one piece.”

  “That’s the plan. Thanks, Honor,” I said with a slight bow. “Thank you, Grace.”

  She gave me a brief nod and began gesturing.

  Honor backed away from the platform and Grace motioned for me to enter the pod. I stepped in and felt the air pressure differential as the door slid closed behind me.

  “Please sit down and use the restraint, Ronin.” Grace’s voice drifted over and filled the pod. I secured the ghostcase in an overhead compartment, sat in one of the chairs, and strapped myself in securely, locking the restraint into the center metal cam. The restraint was a five-point camlock system I recalled seeing in most racecars.

  I adjusted the straps to ensure a snug fit and placed a finger on my techbrace.

  “Cait, medkits on auto-dispense.”

  “Understood,” she purred. “Monitoring all vital signs for any aberrant fluctuations.”

  “Do you know how fast these pods go?” I pulled on the straps one more time to get some breathing room.

  “There is no data on the velocity parameters of Beach pods,” she replied. “However, after careful analysis of the construction of the pod, taking into account that the method of locomotion is supernaturally based, founded on temporal manipulation, I would surmise you could reach your destination yesterday.”

  “That…would be fast.” I pulled down on the straps, making them tighter.

  “I believe your chosen phrase is ‘blazing fast.’ Although the probability of an incendiary outcome is difficult to determine.”

  “Make sure you release a medkit if anything reads off. I’d like to survive this trip.”

  “That would be a favorable outcome.”

  I looked outside and saw Grace move her arms in a large arc. A silver teleportation circle floated from her hands to the pod, landing on its surface gently. An arc of silver energy coruscated throughout the pod and I felt the motion as we lurched forward.

  We glided for several feet as we left the station behind.

  “This isn’t so bad.” I looked down and pulled on the harness. “Maybe this restraint was overki—?”

  My head shot back as the G-forces pressed on my body and pushed me back into the seat.

  “Gravitational force of six detected. Higher levels may cause unconsciousness and impaired blood flow.”

  “Noted,” I managed as I tried to catch a breath. It felt like an elephant decided my chest was a good spot for a squat. I looked out of the pod and everything was a blur. “Cait, make a note of the velocity for…for future reference.”

  “Velocity parameters are being measured. Gravitational forces detected at seven and rising. Prolonged exposure to these forces will impair physical homeostasis.”

  There was no way to calculate how far we were from Haven since the Beach didn’t use normal spatial modes of travel. Traveling by teleport was similar to traveling through a stable Einstein-Rosen bridge. The circles folded time and space. I just didn’t realize that velocity was part of the equation. I felt a medkit flood my system.

  “Sit…rep, Cait.”

  “Approaching gravitational forces of nine. Exposure of forces greater than nine will require cessation of all non-essential bodily functions.”

  “Do...not…knock me out. Reroute higher brain functions through you and engage physioenhancing.”

  “I must caution against this course of action. Severe brain damage is imminent from oxygen starvation.”

  I was approaching a grayout. The periphery of my vision narrowed, tunneling inward, and I felt myself fading out of consciousness. My head lolled to the side for a few seconds before the physioenhancing kicked in, giving me a burst of energy. Like a good cup of coffee.

  “Sitrep, Cait.”

  “Gravitational forces of nine and decreasing. It would appear you have reached your destination.”

  I felt the pod slow down and then come to a stop. Cait flushed me with another medkit.

  “Medkit status.”

  “You have ten medkits remaining.”

  Ten medkits meant I would need to restock Cait soon. That meant I needed to see Reese. Considering he was connected to the Division, and most likely under surveillance, that was going to be a problem.

  “Cait, medkits, and physioenhancing on code red status.”

  “Are you certain? You seem to be encountering a plethora of life-threatening situations as of late.”

  “A plethora, really?”

  “Yes, a plethora is a large, excessive amount of—”

  “I know what a plethora is, thank you.”

  “Very well, code red status on medkit and physioenhancing dispersal.”

  “Thanks. I don’t know when I’ll be able to replenish your inventory and Reese is probably under lockdown.”

  By placing those functions on code red status, Cait would only dispense them if my life was in danger. Techbraces prolonged our lives about three times the normal span.

  Sometimes some of the older operatives, would debrace and retire themselves permanently. The years would catch up to them in a matter of days. I did not intend to take a dusty retirement.

  “Scan the station.” I undid the camlock, removed the restraint, and stood slowly, making sure the extreme G-forces had no lasting effects. The pod door slid open and I could make out about a dozen figures carrying weapons in the dim light of the station.

  “There are fourteen heavily armed Haven security personnel on the station outside the pod. Of the fourteen, five are magic-users who pose a considerable threat. I advise caution and tact. Two skills you seem to be lacking today, Ronin.”

  “You know, just because you use a bedroom voice that doesn’t make the sarcasm acceptable. Whoever installed a CFM voice module in you is going to get an extra dose of backhand when I find them.”

  “In addition to the personnel, Director DeMarco is present.”

  I reached up, removed the ghostcase, and stepped out of the pod with my hand up. “It’s me, Roxanne.”

  The pod door slid closed behind me as I stepped onto the station platform. Roxanne stepped forward. Her hands were covered in black energy as she approached. “Is that you, Ronin? Mark Ronin?”

  “In the unperforated flesh. Can you ask your security to lower the weapons? I’m kind of done being a target for the day.”

  “Stand down and return to your stations.” She absorbed the black energy and narrowed her eyes at me. The security detail headed back upstairs. “Ronin, what are you doing down here? I almost flushed the station with neurotoxin.”

  “I’m glad you didn’t. Neurotoxin disagrees with my everything.”

  “This
station hasn’t been used in decades.”

  “Grace was nice enough to let me use her subway.”

  “Did you just say ‘Grace’ and ‘nice’ in the same sentence? Are we talking about the same person? The cost?”

  “I have to run an escort mission for her.”

  Roxanne winced and shook her head.

  “I’m supposed to inform Division 13 if I even see your shadow near this facility. Paul is livid about what you did to his men. He has Bloodhounds guarding the room on rotating shifts.”

  I imagined Paul’s face when he found his Bloodhounds on the train station and suppressed a smile. The last of Roxanne’s security left us alone in the station.

  “Can we pretend you never saw me?” I held my breath. The idea of going up against Roxanne flitted across my mind for a split-second. Which was about how long I would last against her. I doubted my techbrace could deal with the amount of damage she could unleash, and I didn’t want to find out.

  She waved my words away. “I was never overly fond of your Division. You, I can stand…in small doses.”

  “Thank you, I think.”

  “Clandestine groups have a tendency to take themselves too seriously. Besides, no one uses Beach pods any longer. I thought this was an infiltration. I’ll record it as a malfunction of antiquated equipment.”

  I breathed out a sigh of relief and relaxed slightly.

  It was smart of her to think that way. Haven had been under attack a few times in the last year. Granted most of it had to do with a certain detective agency that specialized in wholesale demolition.

  Roxanne DeMarco was the Director of Haven. She oversaw both the supernatural medical and detention centers and led the general pathology department. She did her job with a ruthless efficiency.

  She was a tall, slim brunette with deep green eyes that reminded me of Luca and moved with the practiced grace of a seasoned fighter. I had personally seen her take down an ogre on her own without so much as breaking a sweat.

  The Division started using Haven around the same time she became a Director and we had a solid working relationship. Over the years and many cases, we became friends. If I had to face Bruce again I’d want Roxanne on my side. You don’t get to be the Director of a supernatural facility like Haven without being dangerous. She was the only sorceress I knew who could hold her own with anyone. Actually, she was the only sorceress I knew, period.

  The Division had been keeping her under surveillance ever since her mage associate shifted in power, attracting the wrong kind of attention, putting her and Haven in danger. He and I were overdue a conversation about collateral damage in the near future, provided I survived Delilah and Tigris.

  Haven was warded and runed against most threats. Those defenses would last about a day if they decided to come for Roxanne. She was no slouch, but she wasn’t prepared for the inevitable conflict. Someone needed a sorceress and had their sights set on her. My job was to blind them into leaving her alone. She was safe for now, but I knew it wouldn’t last.

  “I have a problem.”

  “Does this have to do with the operative who was dropped off here this morning? The one who I was informed doesn’t exist?”

  “Yes, he’s my current partner.”

  “What happened to Luca? I thought you two were—?”

  “It’s complicated.”

  She looked away for a second before answering. “Isn’t it always? Let’s discuss this upstairs.”

  We headed for an elevator bank and I noticed the renovations and increased security.

  “This is new.” I used my gaze on some of the doors. “Are you keeping high-level subjects on this level?”

  “Only rarely.” She placed her hand on a panel next to the elevator bank. “Tristan was the catalyst for the renovation and heightened security. He kept insisting to make it more secure. I think he’s just being paranoid.”

  “Like Heller says: Just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean they aren’t after you.” These measures meant the mage knew something or really was paranoid.

  “I know he means well, but the redundancy systems he has in place can be annoying.”

  My records on him didn’t mention any paranoid traits, but he was a mage. They were all slightly unstable. Our conversation would have to happen sooner rather than later.

  “It was a good call. Keeping this place secure keeps the city secure.”

  The elevator doors sighed open and I followed her in. She stood close to the button-less panel and allowed the retinal and facial scanner to identify her. The doors closed and we rose with a gentle whirr.

  “How did you manage to use the Beach? I thought you were on Grace’s blacklist?”

  I examined the panel again. “Those are some pretty advanced biometrics.” She didn’t fall for my obvious misdirection, crossing her arms and staring.

  “Honor,” I said with a cough. “He sends his regards, by the way.”

  “He knows where he can shove his regards.” She narrowed her eyes at me and I could feel the energy shift in the entirely too small confines of the elevator. “Are you working with him?”

  “Whoa.” I raised my hands in surrender. “Don’t kill the messenger. He helped me get access to Grace and the Beach, that’s all. I’m not working with him.”

  “If I find out it’s anything but that, Ronin, I swear—”

  “It’s not.”

  “This isn’t one of your Division deep ops? Where you have an op inside of an op and no one to trust and, really, just thinking of it aggravates me.”

  “Okay it’s something like that, but it doesn’t involve Honor,” I added quickly when she glared at me. “You two need to resolve this feud you have going on.”

  “After what he did, it can only be resolved one way,” she answered quietly. “Violently.”

  I shook my head. I didn’t do mage mediation, and it wasn’t my place to fix whatever bad blood they had going on. I had enough to deal with.

  “How many men are guarding him?” I asked in an effort to switch topics. “The operative who is not currently under your care?”

  “Are you seriously thinking of removing him from the facility?”

  The elevator doors opened and we stepped into a large office. A glass partition separated the office from a larger reception area. Glass and steel seemed to be the central theme. Her desk was a large piece of two-inch-thick glass with steel supports at various angles holding it up.

  Across the gray marble floor, on the other side of the office, several bookcases, also made of glass, held various books on medicine and magic. With a wave of her hand, the glass partition became opaque, obscuring the view into the office. My ears popped, indicating a change in the air pressure. She had just created a sphere of silence.

  “We’re secure. Tell me why you’re here.”

  I placed the ghostcase on her desk and opened it. I removed the contents and put most of them in the interior pockets of my jacket. I handed her the file and pocketed the USB drive. I needed her help and this was the only way I could think of convincing her.

  “I think the Division’s been compromised and I need to find a group of missing women and children. Jude is the only operative I know I can trust right now.”

  She read the thin file and slowly shook her head.

  “Are you saying Luca—?” she said, holding up the file.

  “Will shoot me on sight before blowing her cover. I trust her, but she needs to approach this from the inside.”

  “So she knows?”

  “Yes. Can you destroy that, please?” I pointed at the file. “I have everything I need on the USB.”

  “Of course.” She let black energy blossom from her hand and engulf the file. “So the Division is after you?”

  “Not just the Division. Delilah is alive and working with some group named Tigris.”

  “Delilah…alive? Are you sure? That would be very bad news indeed. Didn’t you have a name for her? Death’s Angel, Mistress of Death or something lik
e that?”

  “The Angel of Death. Apparently her death didn’t take. Luca thinks she’s alive, and if there’s a slight chance she is, I’ll shoot first, second, and third before asking any questions.”

  “So you’re the bait. What about Sauveur? Does he know?”

  “No, Luca is playing this one close.”

  “One could say too close. Do you trust her?”

  “Implicitly.”

  “Who or what is Tigris?”

  “Don’t know. A large organization that doesn’t exist, but is better funded and better organized than the Division.”

  “This is not a crime.”

  “They are also currently in the process of selling humans to supernaturals. For starters.”

  “I see.” Her face darkened. “And they’re more secret than the Division, is that even possible?”

  “Now you see why I need the rookie. As far as I know, he isn’t compromised. I was still training him.”

  “If you want him, he’s going to have to die.”

  TWENTY-ONE

  “CAN’T YOU JUST cast one of your stasis spells and pretend he’s dead?”

  She pointed at my techbrace. “You have several operatives around his room. Their braces will pick up the residual runic energy.”

  “Then how do you intend to kill him naturally?”

  “Cerberin.”

  “What does a hellhound have to do with this?”

  “Cerberin, not Cerberus. Cerberin is a cardiac glycoside, which is a class of organic compounds that slows your heart rate, making it appear that your heart has stopped.”

  Some of the jumbled thoughts in the back of my brain began to take shape.

  “How hard is it to get this Cerberin?”

  “Due to its lethality, very. These compounds are used in some highly regulated medications in small doses.”

  “Is it easy to detect once in the body?”

  “It’s near impossible to detect. It's a killer weapon that can fly under the radar extremely easily, even under the nose of medical professionals.”

  “What’s the discovery process?”

  “Testing for cerberin poisoning is relatively costly and requires the use of high-performance liquid chromatography coupled with mass spectrometry, which isn't even a viable option in some locations.”