“Because there is no land of tolerance,” Magneto replied. “There is no land of peace.” He pointed up at the Liberty statue. “Not here, not anywhere.”
“I’m sure the professor doesn’t agree with you on that,” Rogue said.
“True,” Magneto said. “But Charles has not seen what I’ve seen. Women and children, whole families, destroyed simply because they were born different from those in power. Well, after tonight, the world’s powerful will be just like us. They will return home as brothers, as mutants. And our cause will be theirs. Your sacrifice will mean our survival.”
“I’m thrilled,” she said.
“Granted, I understand that is a small consolation to the likes of you,” Magneto said. Then he turned. “Put her in the machine.”
He stepped off the boat and looked up at the statue. “Tell me when she’s ready, and I’ll raise the machine up into the torch.”
X-Men Mansion
Logan packed the clothes Xavier had given him into a duffel bag. They were the only clothes he had at the moment, since his camper had been destroyed. And now that he knew where Magneto was going to attack, he was headed there, to save Rogue if he could.
More than likely he was going to die trying, but he had faced death so many times already that it made very little difference to him. He had promised her, and he was going to do his best to keep that promise.
Storm knocked lightly and stepped into the room.
“What?” Logan asked, not looking up at her.
“Cyclops said he would like to see everyone down in the map room.”
“Yeah?” he asked.
“Everyone,” she said.
He nodded. So the kid was finally starting to do what Xavier seemed to think he could do. Take charge.
Storm turned and headed down the hall. Logan tossed the bag on the bed and followed. Might as well see what Sunglasses Boy was planning. That way they wouldn’t get in each other’s way.
The map room was something Logan hadn’t seen in action before. It, too, was a round room, with a large, round table in the center. Control panels lined the sides.
At the moment, the table was covered with a very detailed holographic image of the New York City area, focusing on the bay with Liberty and Ellis Islands. The three-dimensional Statue of Liberty was startling to look at. Logan was impressed. They never seemed to be lacking the latest gadget.
On the board he saw dots of different colors. Jean nodded to him, then pointed at one of the dots. “Red shows New York cop foot patrols. Blue shows the current location of police and other security boats.”
He nodded. This was one very, very sophisticated map. Clearly it was being fed by a direct link to a satellite of some sort. The professor spared no expense for his team.
When Storm and Logan stepped up to the map, Cyclops was studying it with intense care. Finally, without looking up he said, “All right, we can go in here, at the George Washington Bridge.”
Cyclops moved a control ball on the control panel in front of him, and the map shifted, following the motion of a jet coming in low under the bridge.
“We come around the bank just off of Manhattan,” Cyclops went on, giving commentary that followed the motion on the map. “We land on the far side of Liberty Island. Here.”
The map showed the point where they would hit the island. Patrols were light on that side. Actually, they seemed too light. But Logan didn’t mention that.
For a moment they all stood there in silence. It was clear to him that he was going to have a much better shot getting to Rogue if he went with this group. And just maybe they could all get out of it alive.
“So what about radar?” he asked.
Cyclops glanced up and actually smiled. “If they have anything that can pick up our jet, they deserve to catch us.”
Logan nodded. “Good enough.” Then he pointed at the place where they intended to land. “Doesn’t that look a little light on the guard numbers?”
Cyclops studied the area again, nodding slowly. As he watched, another red dot showing a New York cop winked out.
“It seems,” Cyclops said, “that Magneto is ahead of us. We leave in ten minutes, people.” At that he turned and headed for the door, without looking back.
Logan moved with Storm into the ready room off the hangar. He glanced at the uniforms, then shook his head and started for the jet.
“Hold on a second,” Cyclops said, strolling into the room and stepping right up to Logan. “We do this, we do it as a team. Are you going to have a problem taking orders?”
Logan stared into the visor of the man facing him. The guy knew Logan could cut him down in an instant, yet he had the guts to stand up to him like this. Challenge him. The guy had courage, Logan had to hand him that.
“I don’t know,” Logan said. “Give me an order.”
They continued to stare at each other for a moment, then Cyclops turned and moved to his locker. He grabbed a uniform and tossed it at him. “Put it on.”
Logan caught the black uniform and nodded, following Cyclops’ order, trying not to smile.
Chapter Twenty-one
New York Harbor
The night was cold, star filled, and moonless. The lights of Manhattan and the surrounding cities and towns shone like bright, twinkling stars that framed the blackness of the bay and rivers.
Cyclops surveyed the jet’s instruments, making sure everything was in perfect working order. Ahead he could see the George Washington Bridge, and beyond it Liberty Island was lit up, the statue dominating the bay. The line of cars stretching out to Ellis Island seemed to have stopped. Or if it was moving, it was so slow that Cyclops couldn’t see it from their current height of three thousand feet, even with the monitors.
Beside him, Storm studied other screens. And in the next two seats back, Jean and Logan waited. Shortly after they had taken off, Logan had extended his claws—to customize the gloves of his new costume. Otherwise the short flight had been tensely silent.
“All right,” Cyclops said, “there’s the bridge. I’m taking us in. Storm, some cover please.”
“You got it,” Storm said. Her eyes went milky white.
As if to mirror those eyes, below, around, and under the G.W. Bridge a cloud of fog began to form over the calm, cold water. Cyclops watched as it began rolling down the Hudson River, past midtown Manhattan, then out toward Liberty Island.
He took the jet down quickly, almost in a straight dive, dropping to just forty feet over the water and skimming along in silent mode.
“You could warn a fella you’re going to make a move like that,” Logan said.
Cyclops glanced back and smiled wryly at the strained expression Logan wore. He was gripping the armrest tightly. “Not a good flyer, huh?” Scott asked.
“I can’t remember,” Logan said.
“Got me, too,” Storm admitted.
“Sorry,” Cyclops said, still smiling. “I’ll warn you both next time.”
“Thanks,” Logan said.
And somehow, Cyclops knew he was sincere.
“Going to tactical,” Storm announced as they entered the fog right under the bridge.
The windows seemed to darken slightly, then, as if it had turned to daylight, the view of the surrounding area shifted to startling clarity.
“Amazing stuff,” Logan said.
“Highly advanced version of infrared night vision,” Storm said. “Makes darkness a thing of the past.”
“I’ll say,” Logan said.
They reached the bay, and Cyclops slowed the jet down, almost into hover mode, moving slowly toward the far side of Liberty Island. There was no point in trying to save a few seconds at this point, or in drawing attention to themselves. It was far better they got there without being seen at all.
Ellis Island
Craig Downer, a seven-year veteran of the Secret Service, stood on a tower overlooking the events unfolding below. He was in charge of a small squad of six agents, and each squad commander reported to a superior. I
t wasn’t often that the Secret Service broke down into squads like this, but given the size of this particular event, it was the best way to keep track of everything and everyone.
At the moment the U.S. Navy band was playing a selection of different music from various countries. The bandstand was set up to the west of the main stage area. The music seemed to echo over the water, and to Craig it seemed out of tune more than anything else.
A bank of translators filled large booths that had been set up just below his tower. They were constantly speaking into a bank of microphones as the main public address system announced each head of state, each dignitary, as he or she arrived.
Out over the water, the lights of the patrol boats moved in a constant pattern that over the last few hours had become familiar. Then suddenly, as he was just about to turn away, he thought he caught a glimpse of something large and black blocking a portion of the distant shore lights, moving about forty feet above the water.
He keyed his mike. “Can I get confirmation that harbor airspace has been cleared?”
“Roger that,” a voice responded. “Nothing moving over three feet above that water. Airline flights have been shifted to the north approaches, as well.”
“Thanks,” Craig said, staring intently at the area where he thought he’d seen the black form.
Nothing.
He scanned the horizon along the lit shoreline, all the way to the Statue of Liberty.
Nothing.
Maybe he was just getting too paranoid for his own good. He was starting to imagine things. And in his job, that wasn’t a good thing to do.
He went back to scanning the road that led onto Ellis Island, and all the stretch limos still waiting to be cleared. This was going to be a long night before it was over. A very long night.
Liberty Island
Magneto stared out of one of the observation windows set in the head of the Statue of Liberty, watching the lights on the distant Ellis Island. Behind him Sabretooth paced, back and forth, his footsteps echoing in the metal space. Except for the pacing, the silent statue felt like a tomb.
The two cops stationed in the torch above were dead, as was every person who had had the misfortune of being stationed inside the statue. Magneto deeply regretted having needed to take innocent lives like that, but he had had no alternative. The survival of an entire race came first.
After a moment, he keyed in the radio mike that connected him to Mystique, who was located in the main area in the statue’s base. She was stationed at a police monitor that showed all the activities on Ellis Island. “How long?”
Her voice came back clear. “Ten minutes until curtain.”
Outside, a dense fog was rolling in over Liberty Island. That was odd. It took him a moment before he realized why it was odd.
He keyed his mike again, this time to everyone on his team. “Stay sharp, people. We’re not alone.” He smiled, then thought, You’re too late, Charles.
He got no response.
Sabretooth stepped up beside Magneto and looked out the window. Then he growled like a dog at an intruder, and turned to leave.
“Stay here,” Magneto ordered.
“But—”
“I need you with me,” Magneto said. “Once I’ve given my powers to the girl, I’ll be temporarily weakened. You will be my only defense.”
Sabretooth nodded and moved back to the other side of the statue’s head, where the stairs curved up. He was following orders, but Magneto could tell he wasn’t happy about it.
Ellis Island
Craig Downer got the message clearly through his earpiece. “John Henry has arrived.”
John Henry was the code name assigned to the president and his party. Craig and the rest of his people were here to protect everyone, but as always, their first priority was the president.
“Ladies and Gentlemen,” the public address system announced. “The president and first lady of the United States of America.”
On the red carpet leading into the main area, Craig could see the president and his wife walking, smiling, waving to the cheering crowds. They were surrounded by a full contingent of Secret Service. And a dozen more were scattered up through the crowd ahead of them.
Craig scanned along the road, scanned the crowds in front of the president, and then, as the president and first lady got to their seats, he looked out over the black water where he had seen the shape. The Statue of Liberty stood out there, brightly lit and standing guard over the bay.
There was something odd about old lady Liberty. He couldn’t put his finger on it.
Craig shook his head. Why was he having such a bad feeling about all of this?
So far everything had gone smoothly.
Maybe that was worrying him. Maybe it had gone too smoothly.
Chapter Twenty-two
Liberty Island
Logan breathed an inward sigh of relief as Cyclops brought the jet down smoothly into the water and cut the engines. The sensation shifted to the gentle rocking action of water as the engine ports closed up to function like pontoons.
Cyclops climbed out onto the wing and jumped to a nearby rock, using special cords to secure the jet in place. Inflatable black buffers protected it from striking the rocks. With luck, they were going to need the jet to get away. And more than likely, it was going to have to be a fast exit.
Logan followed Cyclops out, then helped Jean and Storm reach dry land while Cyclops finished securing the jet. Logan couldn’t sense any motion or detect the scent of anyone in the immediate vicinity, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. Their enemies had shown remarkable ability when it came to masking their presence.
He and Storm took up positions on the hill, waiting there until Cyclops and Jean joined them. Storm’s fog was thick and heavy, and the air had turned cold and biting. Above them Logan could see the Statue of Liberty towering against a backdrop of the night’s blackness, all lit up with spotlights that cut through the fog. Across the bay he could see the gathering on Ellis Island, and he could hear the faint sounds of the music drifting out over the waves.
“Take a look at this,” Storm said from her position to his right as Jean and Cyclops joined them. She was indicating a huge, green, rounded object composed entirely of metal.
At first Logan couldn’t tell what it was exactly.
“The base of the torch,” Jean said, looking up. There was a hint of awe in her voice. “Can you believe that?”
It finally dawned on Logan just what she was talking about. Above them, he could see that the base of Liberty’s torch had been removed—replaced, more than likely, with the base of the machine that Senator Kelly had described to the professor.
“Spread out and head for the main entrance,” Cyclops said. “Logan, take point.”
“Got it,” Logan acknowledged.
Twenty feet farther up the rocks, under a stone wall, he came across the first body. The cop had practically been gutted, and from the look on his face, he hadn’t died easily or quickly. Logan could smell the scent of Sabretooth on the guy.
Two more policemens’ bodies had been tossed behind the bushes near the main entrance. Logan waited there, in the shadows, as Jean, Storm, and then Cyclops came up out of the darkness, appearing like ghosts, moving silently and quickly. Logan had to admit the professor had trained them well. They were functioning like commandos.
“Two bodies,” Logan said, pointing into the bush behind him.
Cyclops nodded. “Jean, keep scanning ahead. You and I are now on point. Logan, stay close to Storm. Watch her back.”
“Copy that,” Logan said.
So far the kid was acting like a real commander. And so far his orders all made sense. He was going to owe Scott an apology if they both got out of this alive.
Cyclops went in the right double door and continued right.
Jean took the left door and went left.
A moment later Cyclops’ voice said, “Clear.”
Storm and Logan moved toward the front
doors the same way as Cyclops and Jean. As they entered, Storm clipped her cape to her wrists, keeping it closer to her body.
Passing through the doorway, Logan set off a metal detector. With a look of disgust, he popped his claws and plunged them into the machine, putting a stop to the strident alarm.
The inside of the statue’s main foyer boasted a girdered ceiling, then a long hallway heading toward the center of the structure. There was an empty security desk to one side and a metal detector blocking much of the entrance.
Logan went around it on the right.
Storm on the left.
The two cops who had been manning this area were bleeding behind the desk, their throats cut cleanly, their blood so fresh it wasn’t yet drawing flies.
A six-foot replica of the statue stood guard on one side of the hallway about halfway down. As Logan went past it, he paused. A few feet farther on, he whispered to Cyclops. “There’s someone here.”
“Where?” Cyclops asked.
“I don’t know,” Logan said. “Keep your eyes open.”
They continued down the long hallway—slowly, carefully—to where it opened into a two-tiered museum.
The sense was becoming even stronger. Logan glanced around. Still nothing. They reached the center area that stretched upward into the body of the statue. There they stopped, surrounded by displays and side rooms, with a railing curving above them, concealing a dark balcony.
Cyclops gestured, and they spread out, keeping under the overhang of the balcony.
Finally, Logan couldn’t stand it any longer—the sense that someone was just behind them. “Hang on,” he said to Cyclops, who nodded.
Logan headed toward the front entrance, moving quickly and silently.
Nothing.
He was about to turn back when he heard Cyclops’ voice down the hallway.
“Anything?” Cyclops asked.
“I know there’s someone here,” a voice responded. A voice that sounded exactly like his own. “But I can’t see them.”
At that he broke into a sprint, as fast as he could move, back down the hall toward the others.
Someone, or something, who looked, dressed, and sounded exactly as he did, was standing in front of Cyclops. Then the imposter extended his claws and went to swipe at the unsuspecting X-Man.
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