by Alex Siegel
"A jellyfish bloom has formed near the Oceanside Wastewater Treatment Plant. Ecologists are very concerned about a change in ocean chemistry."
Marina shook her head. "I don't think that's relevant. Keep looking."
"Yes, ma'am," Jia said softly.
Marina walked off feeling even more frustrated. She was looking forward to tonight's training exercise. It would be an opportunity to work off her stress while teaching a lesson at the same time.
* * *
Marina was standing behind headquarters with her three legionnaires. Everybody was wearing black and gray tights and black ski masks. The sun was setting, and in the gathering darkness, they were hard to see. The team was lightly armed with knives and guns because some kind of weaponry was always mandatory.
"We're going to play hide and seek," Marina said. "I'll run up the hill and hide. Give me a ten minute head start. Your job is to find me. I lose if anybody sees me. Got it?"
The three legionnaires nodded.
"There is a twist, of course," she added. "I'm going to sneak up on you while you're looking for me. If I touch you before you see me, you're out. I win if I can take out all three of you, so watch your backs. I'm tricky. Bye." She winked and sprinted away.
She ran up the hill behind headquarters. She had learned it was called Mori Ridge, and a hiking trail ran along the top. It was part of a Golden Gate National Recreation Area which was essentially a national park. She would never have to worry about nosy neighbors looking down from above.
Dry, tough brush covered the ground and made walking difficult. She soon regretted not wearing heavier pants and hiking boots. The stiff plant stems were scraping her legs.
Clusters of trees stood on the hill in spots. They were the obvious place to hide, so Marina picked one cluster and aimed for it. She quickened her pace to reach the trees before her ten minutes expired.
Once she was safely concealed behind a thorny tree, she looked down the hill. Hanley and Katie were on the move. In the gloom, they looked like moving shadows, but Marina recognized the shapes of their bodies. Ipo wasn't in sight. A veteran, she thought. I'll save him for last.
She got down on the dirt and squirmed under a bush. She became deathly still as her ninja training took hold. She could remain immobile all night if necessary.
She couldn't see much from her position in the weeds, but she could hear her pursuers. The crunch of footsteps on dry twigs and grass was loud in her ears. Hanley and Katie were rookies and didn't know a good legionnaire was always silent. They seemed to be working together though, and that was smart. Sneaking up on two people was harder than sneaking up on one.
Marina let them wander around for a while so they would get frustrated and anxious. She wasn't worried about getting found. Her outfit was perfect camouflage for these conditions, and she was deep in the foliage. The only light came from a sliver of a moon. As long as she didn't move or make a noise, she was effectively invisible. Discipline and patience were the most important aspects of being a master ninja.
Eventually, Marina got up and approached Hanley and Katie very cautiously. Marina used the contours of the hill and shadows cast by trees to hide her movements. She unconsciously found places to step where she wouldn't make noise. She stayed low and conformed to the plants around her. Hanley even looked straight at her a few times and didn't see her.
The two legionnaires were standing close together and whispering to each other. Marina decided on a plan of attack. She swept Hanley's legs and sent him sprawling face-first in the weeds. Before Katie had time to react, Marina kicked her in the gut. It wasn't a hard blow, but it was one that Katie would remember.
"Both of you are dead," Marina murmured. "Get off the hill, and next time, be a lot quieter. You were tromping around like a couple of elephants. Rookies..."
Hanley sat up with an expression of astonishment and embarrassment.
She quickly moved off. She had no idea where Ipo was lurking, and that made the game interesting.
Marina had learned many things from Aaron. The most important was to not rely on skill, courage, or strength when faced with tough opposition. The surest path to victory was to cheat. In this case, she couldn't outright cheat because she wanted Ipo's respect, but she could use unusual tactics.
She found a relatively comfortable spot in the dirt where brush and weeds shielded her on all sides. She pressed her body down as much as possible to take advantage of the limited cover.
"Ipo!" she yelled. "I'm right over here! Ipo! Come and get me!"
Marina waited. Ipo would have to investigate even though it was obviously a trap. He would approach very cautiously and circle a few times. She continued to wait, knowing this strategy could take a long time. The more cautious and patient player would win this contest, and she refused to lose.
She lost track of time, but at least a half-hour passed before she saw a silent shadow move nearby. Ipo had good ninja skills for such a big guy.
Marina's skills were better. She came up behind him and snapped her fingers on one side. When he looked that way, she stepped around to the other side and kicked him in the chest. The impact made a sound like a hollow tree trunk being struck.
He wheezed and clutched his chest. "Damn it."
"Next time, be more careful." She glared at him. "Let's go back down and try this exercise again. It's a good lesson for everybody."
"Yes, ma'am."
* * *
Ipo and Hanley walked into Alan Darrow's office. The lawyer was sitting behind a black desk made of pieces of obsidian glued together. A striking view of the San Francisco Bay could be seen through his window. The waters were blue, and morning sunlight sparkled off the wave tops. Hanley spotted Alcatraz Island in the distance. Even from a couple of miles away, the pale brown walls of the old prison were forbidding.
Darrow shoved a briefcase across the desk. "Your survey is done."
"Great." Ipo smiled politely and took the briefcase. "Thank you."
"And now you and I are done."
"Don't be so quick to assume that."
Darrow snarled. "If you don't stop bullying me, I'll sue for harassment, and to hell with the consequences."
"I'll let you in on a little secret," Ipo said with a smirk. "We're not really FBI agents. Suing won't do much good."
"Then who the hell are you?" Darrow's face became pink with rage, and he picked up his phone. "I'm calling the police!"
Ipo swiftly walked around the desk, slapped the phone out of Darrow's hand, and grabbed him by the throat.
"Don't get me wrong," Ipo growled in a voice that rumbled like a freight train engine. "We may not be federal agents, but we're still very interested in truth and justice. You're a dirt bag lawyer, a social parasite. I would take enormous pleasure in swatting you. If I were you, I would thank the heavens for the twist of fate that allowed you to escape my lethal grasp. I would take this gift of life as an opportunity for repentance. Most of all, I would not provoke the inhuman monster that stands before you. There are dark mysteries in this world, and I'm one of them."
Darrow's eyes were bugging out. Ipo released him.
"Let's go," Ipo said.
Hanley followed him out. They hurried through the legal office towards the elevator.
"Do you think he'll still call the police?" Hanley said.
"He might," Ipo said, "which is why we need to hurry."
They picked up the pace.
Chapter Twelve
The San Francisco team was seated in the "living room" section of headquarters. Each member had a stack of survey results in hand, and they were searching for a pattern.
Marina was flipping through her stack impatiently. She scanned the answers with her eyes, hoping to spot a clue quickly, but so far, she had failed. The surveys had succeeded in depressing her though. They spoke of lives filled with tedium and hopeless mediocrity.
She was very glad she wasn't a normal person. The idea of working for money made her skin crawl. She could never f
ollow all the stupid, little rules that governed most people. Their concerns were so petty and ambitions so meager. They watched reality television to escape actual reality. They thought driving an expensive car and wearing expensive clothes made them a better person. To Marina, it seemed like utter insanity, yet it was God's plan. She could only shake her head and thank Him for leaving her out of it.
"Find anything, yet?" she said.
The team murmured that they hadn't.
Marina went through her stack again more carefully. She compared each sheet to the next, searching for a common theme. She kept at it until her eyes crossed from boredom, and then she dropped the papers onto a table.
"The answers are out there," she said. "We're just not asking the right questions."
"We asked all the obvious questions," Ipo said.
"Which is probably why we're failing. God's enemies rarely use the same trick twice. They're always seeking new weaknesses to exploit, and there are plenty to choose from. It's a miracle the human race isn't extinct already."
She stood up and began to pace.
"Ma'am," Hanley said, "you're dripping."
Marina checked her right hand. Venom was leaking from her fingernails and onto the floor. The team was staring at her, and a few looked scared.
"Sorry. I drip when I'm very upset. The situation out there is getting worse by the hour, and we're shuffling paperwork." She angrily swept some of the surveys onto the floor with her hand. "I'm the commander. My job is to come up with great plans, and I'm failing."
"That's not quite true," Hanley said. "The rest of us are allowed to come up with great plans, too. Your job is merely to choose one."
"Right now, my choices are limited to nothing and zilch." Marina stared at him.
He shrugged.
"Min Ho and Jia," she said, "put all the survey answers into your computers. Maybe the machines can find what we're missing."
"Yes, ma'am," Min Ho said, "but that will take all day. There are hundreds of forms."
"It will take what it takes. In the meantime, I'll go out and do some interviews myself. Maybe I can figure out the right questions when I'm staring the victims in the face. Ipo will come with me. Katie and Hanley will stay here as security."
* * *
Marina stepped out of a car and looked at a gorgeous, two-story house. Redwood shingles covered the walls and awnings. Exposed beams and posts were also made of knot-free, seasoned redwood. The home was at once rustic and elegant. White paint on the window frames were the only treated surfaces.
A variety of tall trees and bushes screened the house on all sides and created a strong sense of privacy. The lush plants were obviously under the care of professional gardeners. It looked natural without actually being natural.
"Palo Alto seems like a nice town," Marina said.
Ipo joined her on the sidewalk. "A lot of successful entrepreneurs in Silicon Valley live here. We're close to Stanford University where many of them went to school. Every home is worth at least a million dollars. Some are worth several million."
"They don't look that nice."
"They aren't," he said. "The prices are ten times more than they should be, but people are willing to pay to have the right zip code."
Marina walked up to the front door. A yellow stripe had been painted down the middle of the porch, separating it into two equal parts. Each side had its own furniture.
"That's weird." She pointed at the stripe.
Ipo nodded.
She knocked on the door. After a minute, a man in a blue track suit opened it. He was flushed and sweating, and perspiration had stuck his brown hair to his shiny scalp.
"Yes?"
"Mr. Bianchini?" Marina said.
The man nodded.
"We're from the Santa Clara County Center for Dispute Resolution. You filed for divorce recently. We came to offer our services, free of charge. The county is paying for our time. May we come in?" She smiled prettily.
Bianchini looked back and forth between her and Ipo. The legionnaire's massive presence clearly intimidated Bianchini.
"I suppose so," he said eventually. He stepped out of the doorway.
Marina went inside. The stripe continued into the house and up the center of a staircase. Beautiful hardwood flooring was stained with ugly, yellow paint.
"What's the stripe for?"
"I live on one side," he said, "and my wife lives on the other. Neither of us is willing to move out."
"Ah." Ridiculous, she thought. They should just have a knife fight and get it over with.
The interior of the house was gorgeous. A stone fireplace made of granite blocks dominated the center of the living room. The furniture was made of hand-carved redwood covered in clear lacquer. A grand piano with a glass lid stood in the corner. Antique pottery decorated shelves, and some of the artifacts looked genuinely ancient. Big windows allowed natural light to flood the room.
Mr. Bianchini stayed on his side of the yellow line.
A pretty woman with blue eyes entered the living room. She was wearing a black dress which was a bit too short and undignified for somebody her age. The outfit showed off her sleek legs though. She had a pearl necklace which was the same color as her bleached hair.
"Who are you?" she said.
"Mrs. Bianchini?" Marina said. "We're from the Santa Clara County Center for Dispute Resolution. We came to help both of you get through what is obviously a very difficult divorce. Do you mind if we sit down?"
The wife furrowed her brow and sat on a brown leather chair. The husband sat on a couch on his side of the room. They were almost as far from each other as they could get while staying in the same room. After an awkward moment of indecision, Marina sat near the husband, and Ipo sat near the wife.
"Let's start at the beginning," Marina said. "In a calm voice, please, explain why you think this marriage failed. Mrs. Bianchini, you go first."
The wife stood up, and her face turned red. "That man is a disgusting pervert. I still can't believe I actually let him touch me. It makes me want to scrub my body until I bleed!"
"And that woman is a narrow-minded, intolerant bitch!" the husband shot back. "One little indiscretion, and she turned into a shrieking harpy..." Something made a happy chirping noise. He pulled a phone out of his pocket and stared at the screen.
"Mr. Bianchini," Marina said, "we're having a conversation."
He raised his hand. "Hold on. This will just take a sec." He began to type on his phone.
She rolled her eyes and looked back at the wife. "What indiscretion is he referring to?"
"He cheated on me," Mrs. Bianchini said, "with a man! I caught him fucking a guy in the ass."
Marina raised her eyebrows. "That does sound upsetting."
"I wanted to throw up."
Marina faced the husband. "Are you done texting?"
"Sure." He glanced at the phone one last time before dropping it into his pocket. "She makes it sound like I'm a murderer. Consensual sex between adults isn't a crime."
"But it is a violation of your marriage vows."
"Guys cheat all the time. It's not the end of the world." He pointed at his wife. "She lost her mind as if I'd invented the idea. I can't even talk to her anymore."
"You could say you're sorry," Marina said.
"Why bother? The words would just bounce off her bleached blonde skull."
Mrs. Bianchini's eyes bulged. "Do you see what I have to deal with?" she screamed. "He's not even willing to admit he did anything wrong. I'm going to take every dime he has in this divorce."
The husband's phone chirped again. He grabbed it instantly and checked the message.
"Are you going to keep doing that?" Marina said. "It's very rude."
He just typed on his phone.
She snarled and looked back at the wife. "Is that the only reason you're getting divorced?"
"I need another reason?" Mrs. Bianchini said. "Gay adultery isn't good enough?"
"I'm just asking."
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"No, there isn't another reason in particular." She sniffed.
"Was there any indication of homosexuality before this?" Marina said.
"Not that I saw, but I probably should've. I heard his bachelor party got a little weird."
Marina turned to Mr. Bianchini who was still typing on his phone. She reached over and grabbed the device out of his hand. He tried to snatch it back. She reacted instinctively and chopped his wrist.
"Ow!" he yelled. "That hurt!"
He held his wrist with his other hand. She hadn't broken anything, so she didn't know why he was whining.
"Now that I have your attention," Marina said, "I'll ask you the same question. Was this your first homosexual encounter?"
The husband was staring at the phone like a hungry dog watching a meaty bone. "Yes, but I've always had... urges."
"What prompted you to succumb to those urges this time?"
"I guess I finally met the right guy. John." He spoke the name with affection. "We hit it off immediately. He satisfied my needs in a way that the she-bitch never could." He glared at his wife.
She raised her eyebrows. "You want me to stick a broomstick up your ass?"
"That's exactly what I'm talking about: frigid and intolerant."
Marina was getting impatient with this childish bickering. "How did you meet John?" she said.
"Online," Mr. Bianchini said.
"Could you be more specific?"
"On the Soulfriends Network."
Marina remembered the cab driver. A red flag went up in her mind. "This was a random encounter?"
"No." He shook his head. "That's not how Soulfriends works. The system picks your friends for you, and in this case, it found John."
She narrowed her eyes. "According to what criteria?"
"You fill out a psychological profile. It's like a dating service. What does this have to do with anything? Can I have my phone back?"
The phone chirped again. The husband's eyes widened, and he reached for it.
Marina kept it out of his grasp. "Not until we're done. I want to know more about this psychological profile. You actually told your private secrets to a machine?"