by Alex Siegel
Otherwise, there was nothing remarkable about the hotel. There was no ornamentation. The outer walls were seamless glass surfaces from the ground to the roof. The building seemed designed to be as unobtrusive as possible. He certainly didn't see any evidence of weapons.
"Even with the restrictions," Walker said, "I still think this will be a quick battle. We only have to take one building protected by a single team. How hard can that be?"
More cars were pulling into the hotel parking lot. Something was definitely up. Walker felt an urge to attack now, but it was far too early. The bulk of his forces were still in transit. He had to lay low for several more hours at least. One didn't rush recklessly into a battle with the Gray Spear Society.
Chapter Three
Aaron was standing on the roof of the hotel with a pair of binoculars in hand. He was observing the activity at O'Hare Airport which was only a mile away. Giant, green cargo planes were landing, one after another. The C-17 Globemaster was the most common model. The enormous aircraft was practically a blimp with wings. He watched over a hundred, fully equipped soldiers march out of one. Another disgorged three Stryker armored fighting vehicles bristling with weapons.
"What are your thoughts?" Aaron said.
Charles was standing beside him. The former legate had stayed close to Aaron like a good advisor should, but he had been quiet so far. Both men wore heavy winter clothing. A bitter wind was whipping snow around their bodies. They also had white, camouflage cloaks over their shoulders in case somebody was watching.
"I'm glad I'm not a legate anymore," Charles said. "I'm not responsible for fixing this mess."
"That's a rather wimpy attitude."
"I'm an old man. I spent the last forty years saving the world. Whole cities are still standing because of my work. At this point, I'm happy to hand the ball off to younger talent."
"Well, this younger talent wants a useful suggestion," Aaron said. "Give me advice, advisor."
"Use every resource at your disposal, sir."
Aaron gave Charles a hard look.
The former legate had made himself invisible, at least invisible to most people. He wore the Cloak of the Lord. Normal minds had to turn away and pretend Charles didn't even exist. It was an instinctive, automatic response to a sight that was incomprehensibly glorious. Aaron had learned to see through the Cloak, but it wasn't easy. He perceived Charles as a ghostly figure shrouded in all the colors of the rainbow.
"Actually," Aaron said, "that's not a bad idea. Let's go downstairs. I'm freezing my ass off up here."
They went down the nearest stairway. The steel door was frozen shut, and Aaron had to kick it a few times to break the ice. Finally, they entered the warm interior of headquarters.
He went immediately to his office. These days he shared it with Perry, and the hacker was at his workstation as Aaron had hoped.
Perry was lying in a reclined position on a chair made of stretchy webbing. Twelve giant computer monitors were positioned above him so he could work without straining his neck. A curved grid of steel bars supported the monitors. Keyboards and mice were placed on trays that could be positioned anywhere.
He had tears on his cheeks. Instead of typing on his keyboards, his hands were at his sides, and he was staring into space.
"Still recovering from Wesley?" Aaron said.
Perry nodded. "Yes, sir. It was the most profound experience of my life. I'll never be the same. That kid deserves all the hype."
"I know, but now it's time to get back to work. Tell me what the Army is doing right now."
Perry typed for a minute. Pages of information popped up on his screens. They looked like military status reports.
"Deploying into Chicago," he said. "Everything is on schedule. Why, sir?"
"Because that's who we have to fight."
"What?! You're not serious."
"I am," Aaron said. "The United States Army will engage us here. They haven't made any aggressive moves yet, but they will. That's why God summoned the entire Gray Spear Society to protect the twins."
Perry swallowed and grew pale.
"I want you to stop the Army," Aaron said.
"Me, sir?" Perry squeaked.
"Napoleon used to say an army marches on its stomach. These days, an army marches on its computers. I want you to launch a campaign of electronic warfare. Create false orders. Put viruses in computers. Block communication channels. Disrupt supply chains. In a million small ways, bring this deployment to a screeching halt."
"That sounds like a great idea, but I'm just one guy. I can't stop a whole army."
Aaron smiled. "You're in contact with the other hackers in the division, right?"
"Yes, sir. We meet on the secret message boards all the time. They're my friends."
"Then get out the word. The acting legatus legionis wants every hacker in North America to help. The ones in Washington will be particularly useful."
Aaron stood a little taller. It was his first official order as a legate, and it felt good. He could get used to this kind of power, but he knew it would only last until Ethel came back.
"Todd and Clare," Perry said.
"Whoever they are. But start slow. Don't show your hand right away. I want the crescendo of military chaos to build up over hours, so the enemy doesn't realize what's happening until it's already a freakin' disaster. Before it ends, I want cargo planes dropping tanks in the middle of Lake Michigan. I want American soldiers wondering how they ended up in Mexico. I want tears of frustration on the cheeks of every officer. That should give us time to get our shit together. Am I clear?"
"Yes, sir." Perry nodded.
Aaron patted him on the shoulder. "Good man. Get to work."
His phone rang. The caller ID showed Smythe's number, and Aaron put the phone to his ear. "Yes?"
"We have a problem in the lobby, sir," Smythe said. "I think you need to come down here."
"What's wrong?"
"The legate of South America won't settle down. He is demanding to speak to whoever is in charge. I guess that's you, sir."
"I'll be right there." Aaron hung up. He turned to Charles who had followed him down from the roof. "The South American legate is causing problems."
Charles chuckled. "Sounds like Leonardo is still ruling the south with his unique style of leadership." He pronounced the name with a rich Spanish accent.
"You know him?"
"Very well. Leonardo is always good for an inappropriate joke or a friendly knife fight. I've swapped late-night tales of women and death with him several times. Watch out for his bodyguard, Débora."
"What's her gift?" Aaron said.
"She sings very loud. Let's hurry. Leonardo doesn't like to wait."
They went back down to the lobby. When Aaron arrived, he was stunned at the sight. At least a hundred men and women were standing around with disoriented expressions. He could tell by the shapes of their bodies that all were legionnaires. Some looked exhausted and had obviously travelled a very long distance. Every skin color and ethnicity was represented. Luggage was everywhere. A dozen different languages were being spoken.
Smythe and Odelia were at the center of the madness. They were struggling to answer questions and direct traffic, but clearly, communication was a problem. Many people didn't speak a word of English.
Sheryl had come down to help out. Her natural charm and beauty seemed to have a calming effect, particularly for the male legionnaires.
"We're going to need translators," Aaron said. "This hotel is becoming the Tower of Babel."
"Yes," Charles said, "but I suggest gathering the legates together first. All of them speak some English, and they'll have recommendations for translators. That's Leonardo." He pointed.
Aaron looked. The legate of South America was a strikingly handsome man. He had a perfectly trimmed goatee and long, black hair which went past his shoulders. His skin was a golden brown that spoke of days spent in jungles and mountains. He was wearing a stylish, black jacket an
d a blue silk shirt with the collar open. Aaron guessed Leonardo was in his fifties.
The woman at his side had a gorgeous mane of brown hair. A white business suit was tailored for her muscular physique. She wasn't tall, but she looked very solid and tough for a woman. Her throat bulged in an odd way, as if she were in the middle of swallowing a rubber ball. Her brown eyes were constantly moving.
Aaron walked over. "Hello! I'm Aaron, the commander of Chicago." He shook the legate's hand. "It's very nice to meet you, sir."
"Where is Ethel?" Leonardo had a pleasing, Spanish accent but the tone of his voice was rude.
"Away. I'm the acting legate of North America until she gets back. If there's anything you need, just let me know. As soon as all the legates are here, we'll have a meeting. Why don't you and your bodyguard rest in your room in the meantime."
Leonardo huffed. "Acting legate? I've never heard of such a thing. It's outrageous. Ethel has an obligation to be here. Tell me what's going on! God told us to come, but He didn't tell us why." He turned to Charles. "Charles? I thought you retired. You became old and frail."
Charles shook Leonardo's hand. "That's not quite accurate. I'm lending Aaron my wisdom for the duration of this mission."
"And what is this mission?"
A hush fell on the crowd in the lobby. Aaron turned and saw that Wesley had entered. The Voice of Truth was accompanied by his three bodyguards. Most of the legionnaires looked at Wesley curiously and obviously didn't recognize him. Aaron realized his existence wasn't widely known outside of North America. Wesley was just a fragmentary legend in the rest of the world.
He came straight over to Aaron. Aaron braced himself for the chaos that inevitably followed in the boy's wake.
Wesley smiled at Leonardo.
The legate frowned in response. "Who are you?"
"The Voice of Truth. Call me Wesley."
Leonardo's eyes widened. He crossed himself and said, "Dios mío! Es el Niño!" He continued to stare in astonishment.
Aaron forced himself to not chuckle at the strong reaction. "Wesley, Leonardo wants to know what's going on."
Wesley nodded to Leonardo. "You'll find out at the same time as all the other legates. Be patient."
The legate worked his jaw. He clearly wasn't satisfied with that response.
"Will there be a battle?" he said.
"A glorious battle," Wesley said. "The snow will be red with blood." He sounded cheerful despite the grim nature of the prophesy.
"Then I must lead!" Leonardo clenched his fist.
His enthusiasm made Aaron think about the war that was coming. It didn't make sense to have everybody crowded together in the hotel, waiting to be attacked. A big part of the Society would have to operate as a mobile offensive unit. Ideally, they would go out and destroy the opposition before the hotel was even threatened. The more Aaron thought about it, the more he realized this war was going to be a complex series of separate engagements instead of one all-out battle. The hotel was just the prize at the end. There would be plenty of opportunities for men like Leonardo to be leaders.
"You will," Wesley said. "Get some rest now. When night falls, the fun will begin."
Leonardo grudgingly left. His bodyguard, Débora, followed right behind.
Aaron turned to Wesley and said, "The fun has already begun in a way. I told Perry to begin a campaign of electronic warfare."
"Cool." Wesley's sparkling blue eyes lit up. "That should help a lot. You need time to get everybody organized and in position."
"Me? What about the other legates? Don't they have a say?"
Wesley looked around. "Where is Marina? She's late!"
"I have no idea," Aaron said. "I could call her."
"No, she'll get here in time. I know it. I just wish she was here now. We have a lot to talk about."
"And you're going to make me wait to hear the secret until she gets here?"
Wesley nodded.
Aaron sighed. "With the military so involved, this situation is starting to remind me of the Four Corners of Freedom."
"Four Corners?" Wesley raised his eyebrows.
"Yes, the generals who tried to kill the President. You were there, as I recall."
"Why do you think there were four?"
Aaron looked into the boy's astonishing eyes. "A room has four corners. So does a fortress."
"The Pentagon has five corners."
Aaron was silent for a moment. "Fuck," he said finally. "We missed one, didn't we?"
"I think so."
Aaron closed his eyes. The people behind the cannibal plague had played him for a fool. This new revelation made him feel even more incompetent. If he had done his job properly from the beginning, this war could've been avoided.
"Don't feel bad," Wesley said softly. "Everybody makes mistakes. Perfection is extremely boring. Nobody needs that, not even God. And sometimes what seems like a mistake at first was actually the right choice."
"I don't need your fortune cookie philosophy right now," Aaron said. "A lot of people are about to die."
"Yes, and most of it will be your fault. When Marina gets here, please tell me right away. I'm going to hang out with the twins while I wait. They need some encouragement."
Wesley and his protection team walked off. Aaron watched the boy go with mixed feelings.
"In retrospect," Charles said, "I'm glad he fired me. Working for that twerp was miserable."
"Working for me won't last forever," Aaron said. "What are you going to do after all this is over?"
Charles shrugged. "I have no idea. Maybe I'll retire with my skin intact."
"Is that even possible?"
"Probably not. Nobody has ever done it."
* * *
Tawni got up from her seat and went forward to the cockpit. She was eager to see the controls of the legate's magnificent aircraft. She also wanted to chat with the pilots. They were kind of cute.
She leaned in through the low doorway of the cockpit. A dense array of buttons, knobs, and computer displays surrounded the pilots. The instrumentation was packed so close together, she wondered how they found the right button. There were several small displays, and each was full of information.
"Whew!" Tawni said. "That's a lot of buttons."
Tom looked back at her. He was the one with brown hair. "You can stay up here, ma'am, but you have to sit down and buckle your seatbelt. Sometimes the flight gets rough."
A third chair was available for visitors. She sat down and pulled her seatbelt tight.
"How long have you been pilots?" she said.
"Most of our lives," Tom said. "Even when I was in grade school, I flew model planes. I became an Air Force pilot as soon as I was qualified."
"Cool."
"If you don't mind my asking, ma'am, I noticed an odd... darkness around you. It's not just the color of your skin."
Tawni raised her hands. Shadows evaporated from her skin like black smoke. It looked like her fingers were smoldering.
Tom's face lost a shade of color. "That's an interesting trick."
"It's a manifestation of God's rage."
"Ah."
"Tell me a story," she said eagerly. "You must've had some great adventures with the legate!"
"I suppose so." He paused. "I could tell you about what happened to the last plane. When Ethel took over as legate, she inherited Charles' airplane, and we were the pilots. It was just a heavily modified Boeing 737, but it still wasn't shabby. I liked its quirks."
Will nodded in agreement. Tawni leaned forward so she could hear clearly over the engine noise.
"The mission happened in the high plains of the Arizona desert, near Utah. That area is a no-man's land. It's just dirt, rocks, and dry grass for hundreds of miles. A group of physicists was building a special atomic reactor out there. An enemy of God had told them a secret way to create miniature black holes by focusing high-energy particles. The scientists thought the experiment was safe, but it actually would've sucked up the entire E
arth."
"Wow," Tawni said.
"The Spears team in Flagstaff noticed trucks carrying suspicious materials," Tom said. "It took them days to locate the actual experiment, and when they did, the reactor was already being fired up. They were too far away and couldn't stop it. The Flagstaff commander called the legate. We were in the air and could just make it in time.
"It turned out the only safe way to stop the experiment was to cut a specific power line. I flew in low and clipped the wire with a wing. The stunt worked, but I lost a chunk of the wing. Even though we were leaking fuel and fluid, I managed to keep the aircraft off the deck."
Will grinned. "It was the fanciest flying I've ever seen."
"Thanks." Tom patted Will on the shoulder. "The legate was worried the scientists would repair the power line, so she ordered me to land the plane near the experiment."
"In the desert?" Tawni said.
"That's right," Tom said. "It was rough, and I pretty much wrecked, but we survived. You know what they say. Any landing you can walk away from is a good one. The legate and Boreas went out into the night by themselves. By the time the Flagstaff team finally showed up, the experiment had been permanently terminated."
She sighed. "I wish I had been with her."
She heard a beeping noise.
He turned back to his controls. "We're about to land. Stay seated."
"Where are we landing?"
"Ronald Regan. It's as close as I can get."
Tawni could see Washington, DC through the front windshield. The white buildings of the capital gleamed in the distance. She couldn't pick out the White House, but the Washington Monument was easy to spot.
Tom was speaking codes into his headset, and she wondered if they were special passwords. The legate might need to land at any airport on the continent at any time.
He put the plane down on the runway with hardly a bump. Tawni didn't know much about piloting, but even she could tell he was a master. He taxied the bomber to the south-west corner of the airport. Instead of parking in a hangar, the plane came to a stop on an open patch of asphalt far from the passenger terminals.
Neal and three members of his team were waiting. Tawni recognized the commander's amazingly thick, black beard and huge torso from a distance. The last time she was in Washington, Aaron had nicknamed the other three "Blondie," "Brownie," and "Muscles." Muscles was in a wheelchair with a heavy brace on his knee. For some reason, the fourth legionnaire, "Hairy," wasn't present.