Perfect Weapon

by Jade Kerrion

  Xin held up her hand. "Ah, but wait for the magic." She tapped something on her screen, and small boxes appeared next to each face.

  Miriya frowned. The small boxes blurred into motion as segmented portions of faces scrolled through in quick succession.

  Xin was in her element. "The program is creating a composite face based on the available information in the picture and then making a guess on other elements that may be less clear. It'll then compare the composite face to images in the federal database. And here, we have the first IDs coming in." Her fingers flew over the screen of her tablet. "Now, if we discard the ones identified as prison guards in the Californian penitentiary system, we have three to nail down." She read the records associated with each facial match. "Harold Mudd is a serial criminal, an alpha telepath freed in one of Sakti's early prison breaks. Kevin Schultz is a petty thief, a telekinetic, not an alpha. He missed a scheduled meeting with his parole office six months ago in Wisconsin. And finally we have Peter Dieter...does he look familiar, Miriya?"

  Miriya nodded wordlessly. It was the face in Danyael's mind.

  "He's an alpha telekinetic and telepath, a lieutenant in the Mutant Assault Group. He was reportedly killed in a training accident shortly after the assault group picked Danyael up at Lucien's estate. At that time, he was on a temporary assignment with the Navy, and his record of death is officially listed with the Navy, and not the Mutant Assault Group. Isn't that interesting?"

  The chill Miriya felt had nothing to do with the air conditioning system.

  Xin kept working. Her serious face was intent, the gleam in her eyes feverish. Electronic reports flashed across the tablet screen, scrolling too quickly for Miriya to glean any information from them. Xin's technological magic apparently worked behind the scenes, highlighting key words and phrases and merging seemingly unrelated information into a single cohesive report. Reluctant admiration infused Xin's voice. "Sneaky bastards. The assault group created hundreds of false transfer and death records. You could run a standard search of its records database and find nothing out of the ordinary because it has attributed most of its 'deceased' personnel to another military division. Meanwhile, those names are unnoticed, buried in the much longer death records from the larger divisions. Well done, Miriya. I'd never have found the link if not for you and Danyael. And here are the real records of Mutant Assault Group personnel reportedly killed in the line of duty over the past five years."

  Lines of names streamed across the screen.

  "So many..." Miriya breathed.

  Xin nodded. "Almost all in the past year. All alpha mutants. All killed in training accidents. In that same year, Sakti suddenly becomes the most dangerous militant mutant terrorist group in the world. Coincidence, my ass."

  Miriya twitched. Xin was rarely crude.

  The clone reached for her cell phone. "I'm calling Alex."

  ~*~

  Alex Saunders's disbelieving gaze shuttled between Xin and Miriya. He had stepped out of a concert and rushed back to the council headquarters upon receiving Xin's call. In his tuxedo, he paced the length of his office, listening in silence as Xin delivered her report in cool, crisp tones. The clone was sprawled in a leather chair in front of Alex's mahogany desk. Miriya sat across from Xin, her small frame taut with tension.

  "Wait, let me get this straight." Alex checked off the points on his fingertips as he summarized everything he thought he had heard from Xin. "You are telling me that General Howard didn't just get lucky when he found Danyael at Aspen. You're saying that he's been supplying Sakti with his trained soldiers, and that the Mutant Assault Group is responsible for Sakti's rise to power."

  Xin nodded. "That's exactly what I'm saying. Howard couldn't break into ADX to retrieve Danyael, so he equipped and trained Sakti to do it for him."

  "You realize that you're accusing a three-star general in the United States military of conspiring...no, not just conspiring...of leading, by proxy, a mutant terrorist group that has been attacking federal and state prisons and freeing criminals."

  "Yes, that's exactly what I'm saying. You can label his super soldier program 'misguided but well-intentioned.' Howard's association with Sakti, however, is treason."

  "Could there be any other explanation? Maybe Peter Dieter went rogue. It doesn't make Howard complicit in Peter's treachery."

  "What about this long list of 'deceased' assault-group agents?"

  Alex shook his head. "We know that Howard is experimenting with super soldiers. Danyael was dragged into this mess after a training accident. These people on the list could be legitimately dead, killed in the line of duty. I'll need more evidence, far more evidence, than just one man."

  Miriya looked at Xin. "Can we find the evidence? Should I ask Danyael to look around for it?"

  Xin leaned back in her seat, contemplating Miriya's question. "Danyael's at risk, as it is. No, we need to keep Danyael out of Howard's line of fire. Tell him nothing. Besides, to find the kind of evidence we want, we need to get someone into Sakti to look around."

  "Who?"

  A faint smile spread across Xin's face. "There's something I'd been meaning to tell Galahad for a long time, but it kept slipping my mind. I think the time is finally right."

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Zara's townhouse in Georgetown had a charming red brick façade and a vine-covered trellis. Xin wondered how many college professors, lawyers, doctors, and businessmen knew that they shared their sedate, upper-middle class neighborhood with an assassin, the owner of a large and successful agency of mercenaries.

  Zara opened the door as Xin walked up the driveway. "You're up early," Zara said.

  "I have a busy day ahead of me today." Xin stepped past Zara and entered the townhouse. Smiling, she slipped her backpack off her shoulders and set it on the floor next to an oversized blue rabbit and a giant pile of colorful blocks. She had not been to Zara's house for more than a year and was surprised to see it transformed from a designer furniture showroom into a child's playroom.

  The furniture was still in place, suede and leather showpieces from top European designers, their lines sleek and elegant, but Laura's alphabet and number books were scattered over the cedar coffee table next to gun catalogs. "Brainwashing her already?" Xin asked.

  "I need to leave my business to someone, after all." Zara walked into the kitchen. Xin followed. "Laura's still asleep. Can I get you something to eat?" Zara asked.

  "I have a breakfast appointment in an hour." Xin accepted a mug of freshly brewed coffee from Zara. She leaned against a granite-covered countertop and sipped her coffee. "Have you spoken to Galahad recently?"

  "Not since Danyael was taken into the assault group compound. Why?"

  "I'm sending him out on an errand, and I need you to go with him."

  "Why?"

  "I need eyes on the ground. Your eyes."

  Zara grinned. "I'd be happy to oblige, but why not just send me?"

  "Galahad will be meeting one of his templates."

  Zara shrugged and sipped from her own coffee mug. "I'm not interested in attending his family reunions."

  "If you still care about Danyael, you should, because Galahad's templates tend to die at family reunions."

  Zara's violet eyes widened. "What?"

  "Eight of Galahad's templates have died in the past year, allegedly of natural causes, but their deaths have coincided with Galahad's travels to their part of the world."

  "Galahad's not a killer."

  "Did you or did you not train him?"

  "He didn't need training. He has the physical aptitude to be the perfect killer, but that doesn't make him one."

  "Are you going to look at the facts or trust your gut feeling?" Xin pulled a tablet from inside her jacket, turned it on, and handed it to Zara.

  Zara scanned the list. "Why are the names of the ones who are still alive blacked out?"

  "You don't need to see them. Too much information can be a bad thing, and you don't have the psychic defenses to protect wha
t you know."

  "Where is Danyael on this list?"

  Xin tilted her head. "What if I told you he was next?"

  Zara frowned. "But Danyael's safe with the assault group."

  "Is he? Galahad's path will take him into the assault group. Who's going to protect Danyael from Galahad then?"

  Xin watched a subtle play of emotions cross Zara's face. The clone suppressed an amused smile. Zara loved Danyael, in spite of their mutual efforts to wreck their relationship. An assassin and a healer, who knew? Cupid wasn't just unpredictable; he had a sick sense of humor.

  Love, and the hope of seeing Danyael again, compelled Zara to play right into Xin's hands. The assassin nodded. "All right. I'm in."

  Xin smiled. "I'll have Galahad call you. Let's agree on the story."

  "You're going to lie to him?"

  The clone chuckled, the sound low and amused. "No, of course not. Lies aren't necessary when the truth is so much more effective."

  ~*~

  Xin glanced at her smartphone as she took the private elevator up to Galahad's penthouse in Turnberry Towers. Her digital clock showed eight a.m. when she pressed the doorbell. It chimed a tuneful song, and the door opened promptly. Galahad smiled at her, though his smile did not light his eyes.

  She smiled up at him. "Hi, Galahad."

  "It's good to see you," he said. "Come on in." He closed the door behind her and led the way toward the kitchen. "Can I interest you in hot chocolate and croissants for breakfast?"

  "I'd love that."

  Xin followed him to the kitchen, took a seat at the cocktail table, and looked around. The kitchen in Galahad's Arlington condominium was cozy but well equipped. Butcher-block countertops and mahogany cabinets lent the kitchen a warm, homelike glow that balanced the sleek efficiency of barely used stainless steel appliances. "I like what you've done with this place."

  "You do?" Galahad glanced around his kitchen as if trying to see what Xin saw. "I'm rarely in D.C., and I didn't want to over-invest in this unit."

  "You're building quite a collection of homes around the world."

  "I don't think two homes qualify as a collection," Galahad said dryly. He set the table and then returned to the other side of the kitchen where hot chocolate was brewing on the stove.

  "I heard that you're considering a place in Santa Barbara as well."

  "News gets around. Do you know everything, Xin?"

  She grinned. "I try."

  Galahad joined Xin at the table with two mugs of steaming hot chocolate topped with whipped cream and chocolate shavings and a plate heaped high with croissants. "When I got your message, I went down to the bakery to pick up the croissants. They're fresh from the oven."

  Xin picked one up and bit into it. Her eyes closed in ecstasy. "Mmm. You can taste it too."

  They ate in silence for a few minutes. Xin had never felt a need to fill the silence with unnecessary conversation, and Galahad didn't do social chatter either. Several minutes passed in companionable silence before Galahad asked, "What brings you here?"

  Xin reached for another croissant and dipped it in her hot chocolate. "You asked me once to help you locate your primary genetic templates. Well, I found one of them."

  Galahad's eyes widened. "Who?"

  "His name is Thomas Maddox."

  "Thomas Maddox." Galahad let the name roll off his tongue. "Who is he? How long have you known?"

  Xin answered the second question first. "About a year and a half now."

  "I asked you for your help fifteen months ago, and you're just telling me now?"

  "I was a bit grumpy with you," Xin confessed, "and feeling a touch uncharitable. You'd just left Zara, and she was three months pregnant---"

  "I left her? She left me. She didn't even tell me she was pregnant at that time."

  "The distinction isn't really meaningful, because it takes two to sustain a relationship. Anyway, I've been sitting on the information for a while now, and I figured I'd pass it along."

  Galahad set his mug of hot chocolate down on the table. Ceramic hit stone, the sound as sharp as a gunshot. "Why now? This 'charitable act' on your part isn't about reuniting me with one of my templates. You have something else in mind. What is it?"

  Xin released her breath in a heavy sigh. "Thomas Maddox is a person of interest in a federal investigation. Zara's agreed to help with the case. She's going to meet him, but she's out of her league. She's never going to admit it, though. I need someone to protect her. You're the only person I trust to do that."

  Galahad seemed to contemplate Xin's words for a moment. If he was searching for a flaw in the logic, Xin knew he would find none. Neither would he turn down a chance to be with Zara; he would not give up on an opportunity to win her back. Find their weakest point, and you'll always find love there.

  He nodded, as she had always known he would. "I'll call her. Where is this Thomas Maddox?"

  "He hangs out at Sugarloaf Mountain, Maryland, about an hour northwest of D.C."

  "All right. We'll find him. Is there anything else I need to know?"

  Xin took a sip of hot chocolate before answering. "Thomas Maddox is the leader of Sakti."

  ~*~

  Danyael tapped on the door of Reyes's suite and waited for a response. Despite the early hour, the Mutant Assault Group headquarters bustled with activity. The second floor of the building, consisting primarily of guest suites, the infirmary, and conference rooms, was no exception. As soldiers passed, he acknowledged them with a nod and a murmured "Good morning." Their responses were similarly polite; some even smiled at him.

  The door opened, and Reyes looked out.

  "May I come in?" Danyael asked.

  Reyes stepped aside reluctantly. The older man seemed unusually haggard, his smile absent. He did not meet Danyael's eyes.

  Danyael entered the suite and closed the door. "You're tired, Reyes. Can I help?"

  "I don't think you can cure age, Danyael, and I'm feeling every bit of my eighty-seven years today. What brings you around before breakfast?"

  "I need to talk to you."

  "Sounds ominous." Reyes's cheerfulness was forced. He waved toward the living room. "Sit, sit."

  Reyes's suite was identical to Danyael's in layout and furniture, but Reyes had personalized it with framed photographs of wildlife and scenery. An eclectic collection of books was stacked untidily in a corner of the living room. A red knitted throw crumpled on the beige couch added warm color to the room.

  Danyael set his crutch aside and lowered himself slowly to the couch. He stretched his injured leg out and waited for the muscle cramps to pass.

  Reyes sat, too, and stared down at his feet. He emitted quiet misery.

  Danyael sighed, heart and mind in conflict. He's my friend. Reyes, Amanda, and Miriya have been my only friends for months. Why am I doing this to him?

  Danyael placed a hand over Reyes's, channeling peace and solace through his touch. "This isn't an interrogation, Reyes. I just need some answers."

  "Will the answers change anything?" Reyes's voice caught.

  "I don't know. I guess it depends on what the answers are."

  Reyes's laugh was short, desperate. "So what are the questions?"

  "Yesterday, when you saw Sakti's attack on the prison, you felt guilty. Why?"

  Reyes swallowed hard. "We, or rather Elysium, has been associated with Sakti for a long time."

  "I've always known that. You said that you turned away members of Sakti who possessed true criminal intent; the flip side, as I understood it, was that you accepted those without criminal intent."

  Reyes sighed. "When Sakti terrorists are ready to reclaim normal lives, they come to Elysium and stay for a few weeks or months, before returning to the real world."

  "This isn't about Elysium's association with Sakti. You've never blatantly announced it, but you never seemed ashamed of it either, until yesterday."

  "Things changed."

  "Such as?"

  "You."

 
"Me?"

  Reyes sagged in his seat and shook his head. "Yesterday, when you talked about the super soldiers, how you had agonized over the decision, and what it cost you...I couldn't understand---I still can't understand how you've given this super soldier program everything, in spite of how you feel about it."

  "I told you, the time to hesitate is before putting things in motion. The decision has been made. I'm committed now to making the program succeed."

  "You are a remarkable person." Reyes stared out into the distance, not meeting Danyael's gaze. "I had always considered Elysium and Sakti two sides of the same coin. We strove for equal rights for derivatives and mutants, except our methods were different. And who was to say which method worked better, peace or violence? Time is the final judge, and even then, it may depend on who writes the history books or makes the movies. But you've shown me differently, Danyael."

  "But...how?"

  "I realize now that I sold out Elysium by not actually making the choice, the commitment to a peaceful path toward derivative rights. I allowed Sakti's brutally efficient methods to tempt me, not once but several times, and now it is too late to undo those choices..." Reyes's voice dropped to a whisper.

  "I don't understand."

  "You never can." Reyes's expression was flat, his eyes bleak. "You were meant for far better, greater things than---"

  A smooth voice came from the door. "Have I come at a bad time?"

  Danyael looked up. "General." He acknowledged the man with a nod. Your timing is too perfect to be coincidental.

  "Were you talking about Sakti?" the general asked.

  Danyael saw little harm in broaching the issue directly, even if it meant offending the general. All he stood to lose was his life, and in the grand scheme of things, his continued existence was overrated. "General, I recognized one of the Sakti terrorists on the video feed yesterday."

  The general nodded. "His name is Peter Dieter. He was a lieutenant in the assault group until about five months ago."

  "Did you order him to join Sakti?"