Cara looked from one woman to the other. “Wait. You’re saying the Kilomea isn’t a real challenge?”
Diana laughed. “Well, talking to him is certainly an epic task, but beyond that, not so much.” She tried not to picture the Diana-shaped dent in her car.
Her teammate’s eyes widened, but she didn’t reply.
The elevator halted and the door slid aside. Murphy led them into an oval that matched the one above. “This is the highest underground floor. We call it level one. The above-ground levels are A through D.” She gestured as she spoke. “It’s separated into two halves. That way is the infirmary and it's very specialized holding cells. On this side, we have the interrogation rooms.”
Tony looked interested, and the warden led the way to the closest chamber and used the panel beside it to pop the locks. Tony and Cara soon disappeared inside. Sounds of approval came through the open door, and the woman in the corridor shared a grin.
Cara emerged first. “That chair looks solid.”
Tony followed her out. “It’s certainly not like any of the interrogation rooms I’ve ever worked in.”
Diana nodded. “It’s lots of fun because the chair releases electric shocks.”
The others looked unexpectedly uncomfortable, and Diana felt the need to explain. “What? Sometimes, a prisoner requires some extra persuasion. You try talking to a Kilomea and see how you feel about a little buzz then.”
Murphy laughed and led them back to the elevators. She raised her watch and made the same request as before, and they entered. The warden pressed the button for level two. Tony asked, “Any staircases?”
Murphy shook her head. “Nope. They’re too much of a security concern. The only way up or down is these four lifts.”
He whistled. “It seems unsafe for the workers as well as the prisoners. “What about a power outage? What then?”
She pinned him with an unflinching look. “There’s a backup power source to the backup. Look—sometimes, you have to choose between safety and doing the job right. Our people are carefully recruited and have knowingly made the decision to accept the risk.”
“How do you ensure they stay loyal?” Cara asked.
“They’re under voluntary surveillance. It’s part of the gig.”
Diana winced. “Now that makes me a little uncomfortable.”
The warden shrugged. “There are too many examples of people on the inside working with criminals on the outside. Until we can develop unhackable robots with all the skills of humans, it will be a constant dance between privacy and security. We might have taken it too far. Time will tell. But I comfort myself with the knowledge that at least the oversight isn't kept a secret from them.”
The opening doors forestalled additional comments. Murphy led them left out of the central elevator area, which was identical to the floor above. They walked a short distance, turned right, then right again. Diana took note of the dual turrets mounted at each corner with one barrel facing in either direction. Others were positioned at regular intervals in long stretches of the corridor.
The warden caught her interest. “Stun cannons are everywhere. These are either controlled from the booth in the center or can be put into motion-sensing mode after interaction hours. We have heavier artillery if needed, but those require human intervention at every stage. They’re too powerful to be automated.”
They arrived at an area with a blue floor instead of the ubiquitous institutional beige. Short hallways led toward the center of the facility, providing access to sets of four cells, a pair on each side of the spoke. Heavy doors sealed each one. Murphy knocked on one and it resonated loudly in the combined space. “Prisoner storage. We can hold twenty-four each on levels two, three, and four.” She raised her watch to her mouth and said, “Guard post two, this is Murphy. Is two-three unoccupied?”
The answer was instant. “Affirmative.”
“Open it, please.”
The door swung wide as the locks retracted with a smooth whir and a sharp bang. It was a reasonably sized room—bigger than Diana’s office at ARES DC had been. The impression was immediately utilitarian in the same white as the elevators, the corridors, and almost everything they’d seen so far. A bed stretched along the left side with built-in shelves above it. A toilet and sink were installed on the back wall of the cell. The right held a desk. Soft lights shimmered above. Diana squinted for a closer look. “Blue light?”
Murphy nodded. “It’s allegedly similar to sunlight and supposed to help keep people calm. I honestly don’t know if it works, but we’ll take any edge we can get.”
Tony ran a hand along the desk where it met the wall. “Is this seamless?”
The warden grinned. “It is, and it’s built out of super-heavy-duty plastic. Each surface of the room is the same. The bed is attached as well, and the facilities are of the same material. There’s nothing to break off and use as a tool, and anyone who has powers involving metal manipulation is out of luck, even if they manage to overcome the emitters. Fortunately, we haven’t found any magic users who can do much with plastic yet.”
Cara peered at the place where the bed met the wall. “It seems like it will make replacing anything that breaks difficult.”
“Yeah, I’m not sure they thought that one through all the way from start to finish. I guess we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”
She led them out, and the cell banged closed behind them. Diana quickly identified the cameras she knew had to be there. The small discs were almost identical to the ceiling surrounding them. Further along, the hallway opened into a large common area that made up the rear portion of the level. A basketball court stood in one third, some basic exercise gear in the middle, and tables had been set up on the far side.
The warden did her tour guide impersonation again. “This is where the prisoners are permitted to gather for a few hours each day, more or less, depending on their own particular issues and the degree of risk. Level two is our lightest security, and it increases at each descending level. Anti-magic emitters generally keep them out of trouble. We have books and board games, plus projectors for television and movies. The opposite side is identical to the cellblock we just left.” She led them through another heavily secured door that accessed the lobby via a small hallway that was secured with its own stun turret.
When she spoke into her watch again, the elevator doors parted. After she pressed a button, Murphy said, “We’ll skip three and four, since they’re the same as two. They merely have more turrets, an increased guard presence, and fewer privileges. Four also houses the guard station for five.”
Diana was impressed. “It seems you’ve addressed everything." She faced her team. "What do you think?”
Tony nodded in agreement, but Cara frowned. “Is this the slowest elevator ever, or is it my imagination?”
The warden grinned. “No, it’s not your imagination. They are deliberately slow. It’s security again.” She pointed at the ceiling. “There are broad beam stun guns mounted above, and also nerve gas for anyone who can’t be subdued the easy way.”
Cara shook her head. “Some of this stuff seems as dangerous to the guards as it is to the prisoners.”
The warden shrugged again. It seemed to be her stock response to questions about concerns for those employed there. “It’s set up so that only human intervention can trigger lethal action. That’s why we’re so concerned about the reliability of those who work here. There are many who think a completely automated facility would be the best way to go, particularly cost-conscious politicians, but the very idea makes me shake in my boots.” The door stopped, and she gestured ahead. “You’ll see why.”
The bottom level was very different than the others. There was no central guard post, only a pole with turrets attached. Several pointed in each direction, and they weren’t all stunners. The weapons made mechanical sounds as they swiveled on their axes. The warden led them out of the lobby a touch more quickly than on previous levels. “This is where the m
ost problematic prisoners are confined. We can’t rely on anti-magic emitters here, because these either literally cannot survive if cut off from their magic or have become so attuned that they go catatonic when deprived. While catatonia is good for security, it’s decidedly less good for the long-term health of our guests.”
Cara’s laugh was a mix of disbelief and sarcasm. “Is that something we’re concerned about?”
Murphy stopped, turned, and stared at Cara with a neutral gaze. Her voice wasn’t accusing but far from warm. “Our mandate is to incarcerate these prisoners as securely as possible while ensuring whatever quality of life we can provide, given those strictures. So, yes, we are concerned with their health.”
The marshal raised her hands in a gesture of appeasement. “No offense meant. It’s a little overwhelming, I’m afraid.”
The warden nodded, and the chill in her voice lessened. “I felt the same way. We’re used to it but will hopefully never get too used to it.” She repeated the procedure to unlock and open one of a pair of cells on a short hallway identical to the ones they’d seen. The inside mirrored those above in size and furnishings, but there was only a single unit on each side of the corridor on level five. “We have significantly increased physical defenses here. The walls, floors, and ceilings are extremely thick. It takes up a lot more space. The level itself is extra-high to accommodate it, so it’s not really obvious to the eye.”
She led them to where the common area would have been on the other floors. Instead, they discovered a holding station for six-foot-tall plastic machines with four articulated arms and heavy black treads to roll on. The tops were the same white as the cells.
“We don’t have any humans present on this level. There’s a post on four where the guards control these robots. Everything here is done by remote for fear of magic abilities we aren’t aware of being used to harm the guards or escape. It’s overkill for the prisoners we’ve seen so far, but they designed the facility against all contingencies, and this is what they came up with.”
Tony stared at the devices like he appraised them for his own use. “So, until you get that special prisoner who has the ability to control machines, we’re in good shape.”
“Right, but nothing lethal can happen on this level—or any other—without direct human intervention.”
Diana shook her head. “Other exits?”
“Not here. Level three, and it’s an exit only. Anyone trying to get in without first disarming the traps from inside using physical switches in the tunnel would collapse it and seal the access off.”
Murphy took them back to the elevator, called for it to open, and pushed the button for level A. “So, any questions?”
There were none. There really was nothing to say. Diana was sure the others thought the same thing she did.
Please, never ever let me be sent to the Cube as a prisoner.
Ten minutes later, they all sat around the conference room table with bottles of water and cups of coffee at hand. Diana started the ball rolling. “So, what would you like to see from our team?”
Warden Murphy took a deep drink from her mug and released a contented sigh. “We have most things covered. There are contingencies in place for almost any kind of attack on this building. The underground levels can be sealed off at the touch of a button and separating them from one another is equally as easy. We’re as close to impregnable as we can be.” She knocked on the table with a fist.
“But?”
The woman grinned. “Right. But. We would hope that if something did happen, your team would deploy in defense of the facility. We’d have to adapt in the moment to figure out how best to work it.”
Diana turned to her people. “Any thoughts?”
“Not about the Cube,” Cara replied. “But this might be a good time to talk about interfacing with the local PD.”
Tony nodded. “I’ve been in touch with my old boss. I can be the conduit for influencing how bounties are prioritized, so both we and the warden can have a voice in that.”
Murphy shrugged. “I can’t see how that’s a bad thing.”
Diana added, “At least we should make sure that level threes aren’t listed as level twos.” Cara barked a laugh, and the others looked confused. “All right, I need a private word with Warden Murphy.”
The others said their goodbyes and left the two leaders alone. Diana swiveled to face her squarely. “So, I want to know if you have any problem with ARES, especially the lack of direct oversight. I can see where that might be an issue for you.”
The woman chuckled. “I may be a bureaucrat, but that doesn’t mean I think bureaucracy is the solution to everything.”
Diana persisted. “I’m aware that you spent some time with the Paranormal Defense Agency, though. They’re basically by-the-book.”
Murphy shrugged and took a sip of her coffee to delay her answer. “That’s one of many reasons I didn’t stay with them. Sometimes, in order to get things done, you have to color outside the lines.”
She nodded, satisfied, and stood. “Call anytime.” She extended a hand.
The warden rose and shook it. “Hopefully, I won’t need to. But if anything goes wrong, count on it.”
Chapter Eleven
Rath watched the clock eagerly. Diana had a rule that he wasn’t to wake her until seven in the morning on Sundays. He’d checked the calendar to be sure, but it was Sunday, so he had to wait. Most of the previous two hours had been spent watching the kung fu channel, practicing moves on the couch, and adding his own acrobatic elements to them. Max surveilled him with droopy eyelids the whole time, but the troll imagined that he, too, waited for the magic moment to arrive.
Sundays were for training together.
As soon as the clock’s hands clicked into position, he ran to the opposite side of the couch, ready to wake Diana. She passed him on the way to the coffeepot with a wave. Her voice was scratchy. “Twenty minutes, Rath. Let me wake up.”
He performed a happy backflip. “Okay, twenty.” The Borzoi stretched lazily and rolled onto his side. “Good, Max. Rest twenty minutes. Then train.” Rath spent the time making his preparations. He slipped on the bandolier Emerson had created for him. Most of it was ornamental, but the little armor piece held several tiny throwing spikes for him to use. His paired needles slid into the cross-draw holster on his back. He had grown proficient at drawing and sheathing them after considerable practice. Now, he accomplished the action without a thought.
When the clock read seven-fifteen, he climbed to the floor and poked at Max until the dog rose obediently. Rath pulled himself into place on his collar and looked around expectantly. Diana appeared, wrapped in layers of exercise gear, a hat, and a heavy gray sweatshirt designed to ward off the February chill. A black backpack completed the ensemble.
He shook his head.
Will be slower. But good for strength.
They went outside and engaged in their separate warmups. Diana stretched on the porch railing, Max sniffed around the perimeter of their small yard, and the troll grinned. He had warmed up inside already. Finally, it was time. He could see it in the sparkle in Diana’s eye. She said, “Ready, boys?”
Rath struck a noble pose with his head pulled back and chin angled up. “Born ready.”
She laughed. “Okay, then. Three, two, one. Go.”
Diana surged to an early lead in the race and bounded down the hill toward the University. Rath had to poke Max many times to move in the right direction. Apparently, waking up was hard for him, too. But once the animal found his stride, it was glorious. He loved the feel of his mount beneath him and reveled in the blur as the world whipped past. It was one reason he stayed in his smallest size so much. It made everything that much more fun.
They reached the bottom of the hill with Diana and paused to cross the big street. Few cars were on the road, but they still waited for the white glowing person to replace the red X. After they traversed the five lanes, the dog surged into first place. Rath laughed as Diana f
ell behind. As they rounded to the library, she called, “Okay, Max is too fast. He has four legs. I only have two.” They jogged to a stop. Both runners panted moist clouds into the chill air. She looked at the troll. “Hand them over, short stuff.”
Rath slipped out of his bandoliers and surrendered the armor and weapons to her, then made sure she set his weapons carefully into a pouch attached to the backpack.
He flipped into the air and landed in his larger form but stopped at middle size. Diana had explained that the height was called three feet. It offered what he considered the optimal balance of acrobatic potential and power.
She nodded, grinned, and broke into a run without warning. The second part of the race had begun.
He bared his teeth. “Good job, Max. Keep up.” Rath dashed after her. She couldn’t match his speed, even with his smaller legs. He left his friend and savior laughing as he passed her. When she finally caught up again a full minute after he had arrived, he hung upside down from a set of horizontal metal bars in the place called the park.
Diana fell onto a green wooden bench with a laugh, rotated her ankles, and massaged her calves. “Too much office work these days, Rath. Running hurts.”
The troll bobbed his head, which made the world look very strange from upside down. “Must train.”
“You know, it’s funny you should mention that.” She slid the backpack off her shoulders and set it on the bench beside her. The zippers rasped as they opened, and she extracted his utility belt. He grinned and nodded. A somersault took him off the bars, and he jogged over. She handed him the pouch-covered black strap, and he fastened it across his hips. With practiced movements, he secured the Velcro straps of the holsters around each leg. She offered the batons, and he slipped them home.
They were angled for cross draw but could be pulled with the same-side hand as well. He checked to ensure they were set to safe mode.
It would be wrong to accidentally shock while training. The edges of his mouth curled in a grin. Wouldn’t it?
Federal Agents of Magic Boxed Set Page 30