Cracks in Reality (Seams in Reality Book 2)

by Siegel, Alex

  "Because that's where the sorcerers are. A whole nest of evil is there. We're going to kill them all."

  Andrew nodded with understanding. Blake was using the White Guerrillas as a tool to destroy his enemies. It was an obvious tactic in retrospect. Of course, the irony was they were taking orders from the most evil sorcerer of all.

  * * *

  Dan was huffing as he ran over the top of the hill. He saw an old barn nestled in the trees below. The wooden planks were warped and sagging. If there had ever been paint, it was gone now.

  He was torn between charging forward and approaching covertly. The more time he took, the less likely Blake would still be there when Dan arrived.

  He charged forward, waving for the other BPI agents to keep up. He knew he was running into a dangerous situation. The White Guerrillas were probably armed and ready for him, and Blake would tell them what to expect. The isolated location was also perfect for an ambush. Dan's duty as a federal agent forced him to proceed however. If there was any possibility of capturing or killing Blake, Dan had to go for it.

  He was disappointed in Tungsten. The veteran soldier had been a little too eager to hang back, but Dan wasn't entirely surprised. Tungsten wasn't a sworn agent after all. The BPI was employing him as a private contractor for the duration of the mission. He didn't have much skin in the game.

  Dan used what cover was available as he approached the barn. He stepped lightly and avoided dry litter on the ground. Fortunately, the dense forest allowed a stealthy approach.

  He spotted a woman looking out a high window. She was carrying a FN SCAR, a very modern and expensive assault rifle, but her awkward posture and grip suggested she barely knew how to use it. Dan expected Blake had supplied the weapon. The woman had a frightened expression.

  Dan waved for his colleagues to get behind cover. The three men had come from the Louisville office of the BPI, and Dan had met them for the first time yesterday.

  "How do you want to do this?" one man said. His name was Cruz.

  Dan studied the barn. It had several windows, and none were glazed. He couldn't see the front, but a door in the back didn't have a lock. A clearing surrounded the barn, and it would force him to cross about thirty yards of open ground.

  "We have to look inside," he said. "If Blake is in there, we'll shoot him on sight. Cruz and I will sneak up to a window." He turned to the other two agents. "Go around to the far side and fire your weapons. Draw attention away from us."

  They nodded and hurried off, staying in the shadows.

  "When we hear the noise," Dan said, "we'll go."

  Cruz nodded. He knelt like a sprinter preparing to start a race.

  * * *

  "Hold on a sec," Andrew said. "How much ammonium nitrate would it take to destroy BPI headquarters?"

  "Depends on what you mean by 'destroy'," Tungsten said.

  "Kill everybody including the people underground."

  "We're talking about tunnels in bedrock. No amount of conventional explosive could get down that far."

  "But only the administrative staff is above ground," Andrew said. "Accountants and paper pushers. Blake doesn't care about them."

  "Unless..." Tungsten looked at the prisoner lying on the ground. "How much explosive do you have in the barn?"

  Logan didn't answer immediately, so Tungsten gave him a swift kick in the kidney.

  Logan gasped in pain. "Two thousand pounds," he said through his teeth.

  "Not enough for the job," Andrew said.

  "But more than enough to wipe out the White Guerillas and anybody else in the area," Tungsten said grimly.

  Andrew felt like a fool. Blake's plan was painfully obvious in retrospect.

  Andrew grabbed his phone and dialed Dan's number.

  * * *

  Dan heard gunfire on the far side of the barn. The woman in the high window looked in that direction. Dan sprinted forward, running as hard as he could.

  His phone buzzed, but he ignored it. Not now, he thought.

  He left the protection of the trees and crossed open ground to reach the barn. He tried to keep his footsteps quiet. Fortunately, the gunfire was loud enough to cover the sound of his boots crunching grass. Agent Cruz was two paces behind.

  It took only a few seconds for Dan to reach a window at ground level. He didn't have time to be subtle. He pointed his gun through the opening and looked inside.

  Men and women had taken up defensive positions inside the barn. They were generally young and scared. All were surprisingly well equipped in brand new combat gear.

  A green and yellow dairy truck was parked on the dirt floor. Tools and parts surrounded the vehicle. Dan guessed the White Guerillas intended to use it as a car bomb.

  Four 50 gallon steel drums full of powder were also in the barn. The powder had white and gray streaks. Ammonium nitrate and aluminum, Dan thought. There was enough explosive to demolish a building.

  The oldest man in the room was standing by the drums. He was tall, lean, and handsome. He was wearing a leather coat with a sheepskin liner.

  Dan didn't see Blake or anybody who might be him in disguise.

  "Hands up!" Dan yelled. "Drop your weapons! We're federal agents! Tell me where Blake Blutstein is!"

  The man in the leather coat looked at Dan for a moment with a puzzled expression. Then the man aimed his assault rifle at the drums.

  "No!" Dan screamed.

  * * *

  Blake heard the explosion. It sounded like a sharp thunderclap except the sky was cloudless. He looked back in time to see a fireball rising up quickly and dissipating. There was little smoke. Ammonium nitrate was a clean burning fuel.

  He didn't know if Andrew or Charley had died. Blake was too far away to locate the energy of the apprentices now. Somebody had died certainly. Dean wouldn't have set off the bomb unless the BPI had attacked the barn.

  Regardless of the specific outcome, Blake felt good about it. He had killed some of his enemies, and more importantly, he had made them look like fools. When all the BPI agents and sorcerers heard the news, they would be afraid. They would hesitate before the next confrontation. The possibility of another trap would distract them from their mission. He was an expert at exploiting fear.

  Blake kept running through the woods.

  * * *

  The sound of an explosion startled Andrew.

  "Dan!" he yelled.

  Andrew ran in the direction of the blast.

  "Andrew!" Tungsten yelled. "Wait!"

  Andrew kept going. He reached the top of the hill and looked down the other side.

  A circular blast pattern showed where the barn had stood, but only a crater was there now. The leaves of nearby trees were stripped off.

  A heavy hand fell on Andrew's shoulder.

  "Not another step," Tungsten said.

  Andrew looked back at Tungsten and Charley who had caught up to him.

  "Do you think Dan is dead?" Andrew said fearfully.

  Tungsten had a grim expression. "I'll go check. Stay here and hide. Don't move!"

  He ran down the hill towards the crater.

  Andrew realized they had left the prisoner behind. Logan was probably running away now.

  Andrew and Charley went to a nearby bush and crouched behind it.

  "Hit me," he said.

  "What?" she said.

  "Go ahead and punch me in the face. I deserve it. Blake's plan wasn't even that complicated. We should've known it was a trap right at the start. Of course he sent Phillip to the police station as bait. Of course he let us trace the phone. I thought I was smart enough to see through Blake's tricks. I was wrong."

  Andrew felt crushing guilt. Dan hadn't been a great friend, but Andrew had liked the guy more often than not. Andrew should've insisted Dan be more cautious.

  "We were all fooled," Charley said. "We were so eager to kill Blake, we accepted the evidence at face value. On the other hand, we couldn't just go back to Washington. We had a duty to investigate the clues we
were given. What else could we do?"

  "And Blake knew it."

  "Yes. He played to our weakness."

  "What's his weakness?" he said.

  She shrugged. "I wish I knew."

  Andrew listened to the sound of the breeze blowing through the trees. Despite all of his special training, he now wasn't so sure he could handle Blake. The mission wasn't just a simple battle between two sorcerers. It was a chess game with human lives as pawns, and Andrew was losing to a man who was a master in more ways than one.

  "What are his objectives?" Charley said. "He isn't trying to escape from us. He could've done that a long time ago."

  "He wants to destroy the BPI?" Andrew said.

  She shook her head. "Then we would be hearing a lot of stories about agents going missing. With his powers, he could pick them off at will, or he could just hire people to kill them. He isn't attacking other sorcerers either. He must have a bigger picture in mind."

  "He wants to kill Tonya, Richard, and Keene for sending him to prison?"

  "Then why hasn't he done it?" She frowned. "Revenge must not be that important to him. What does he really want?"

  A bird squawked. Andrew looked but didn't see it in the trees.

  "He's a magician."

  "Huh?" Charley said.

  "Blake was a stage magician for many years. A famous one. We have to think in terms of magic tricks. Deception and distraction. He wants us to watch his left hand while his right hand does the real work. He needs a live audience to appreciate his greatness."

  She stared into his eyes. "Killing Dan was just a distraction. Blake couldn't care less about a lowly BPI agent. That bomb was flash powder meant to dazzle our eyes and make us angry. While we're watching the show here, Blake's real plan is happening offstage somewhere else."

  Andrew knew she was right. He was doubly a fool today. The trip to West Virginia had accomplished nothing except wasting time and lives.

  Somebody touched Andrew on the shoulder, and he jumped in surprise.

  "Hi," Tungsten said.

  Andrew looked back. Somehow, the ex-soldier had snuck up on him.

  "We need to work on your awareness skills," Tungsten said, "but not now. I found Dan, at least parts of him, and he's quite dead, poor guy. At least it was quick and painless. I don't believe anybody survived on either side. The blast was devastating. The entire barn evaporated."

  Andrew closed his eyes. "What do we do now?"

  "I'll call for a crime scene investigation, but that's not our job. We should go back to Washington and wait for the next lead."

  "What if we never catch Blake?"

  "Sometimes the bad guy gets away," Tungsten said. "That's the real world, but we'll keep looking. We won't give up. One thing I learned in the military is that as long as you're still breathing, you can still win. We march forward, not back."

  Andrew sighed. He didn't share Tungsten's optimism.

  "Hey!" Tungsten gave Andrew a friendly push on the shoulder. "This was a setback, but the war isn't over. Straighten up that attitude."

  "Maybe I'm not qualified for this mission," Andrew muttered.

  "Are you kidding? I've seen what you can do. You and Charley operate at a completely different level than us normal humans. Of course you're qualified. Today was a hard lesson, but we'll learn from it. We'll be smarter next time." Tungsten paused. "I blame myself, too. I kept quiet when I should've spoken up, but this is my first mission with the BPI. I assumed Dan knew what he was doing."

  Nobody talked for a moment. Charley gave Andrew a hug, and it helped a little.

  "Let's go," Tungsten said. "We have a long hike back to the car."

  They marched off.

  * * *

  Blake's legs were so tired, they were shaking. Parts of his body were hot and sweaty from exertion, and other parts were cold from the chilly air. A long hike through the woods had seemed like a fine idea when he had planned today's operation. He had clearly overestimated his own physical capabilities.

  The arduous journey was almost over though. A portable GPS unit was guiding him through the dense woods, and he was very glad he had it. Without the guidance, he would've lost his way a dozen times. He wasn't carrying a real phone because those were easy to track. The GPS unit was just a passive receiver which emitted no signal.

  Blake staggered out of the woods. He had arrived in a tiny town at the intersection of two highways. He saw a car repair garage, a junk yard, some mobile homes, and a diner. He headed towards the latter.

  He sensed Phillip's energy and the Russian Eye in the restaurant. They were exactly where they were supposed to be which came as a relief to Blake. He had felt nervous about letting the boy drive off with such a valuable possession. Of all the risks Blake had taken today, that one had bothered him the most.

  He went into the restaurant. The warm interior was heavenly after spending all day outside. The restaurant had cheap wooden tables and chairs. Farm implements such as plow blades, pitchforks, and shovels decorated the walls. He smelled burnt meat.

  Phillip was sitting in the corner guarded by two of Blake's assassins. The boy was quietly reading a book with the remains of a meal in front of him.

  As Blake walked over, Phillip looked up. "You made it," he said without smiling.

  "Of course," Blake said. "I'll have my gem back now."

  Phillip took the leather pouch containing the Russian Eye out from under his shirt. He handed it to Blake who quickly hid it under his own shirt. Having that tiny source of energy near his heart again felt good.

  "How did it go?" Phillip said.

  Blake sat at the table. The title of Phillip's book was The Making of the Atomic Bomb.

  "Pretty well, I think," Blake said. "I heard the blast, but I didn't stick around to count the bodies."

  "Are Andrew and Charley dead?"

  "I don't know."

  Blake called over a waitress. She gave him a menu, and he insisted she wait while he decided what to eat. He quickly ordered a double hamburger, French fries, and a large Coke. The waitress left.

  "You're hungry," Phillip commented.

  "Starving," Blake said. "That was a hell of a hike."

  "The apprentices could be trouble. I hope they're dead. If not, maybe we should just have them assassinated. You employ professional assassins after all."

  Phillip glanced at the large, muscular men on either side of him.

  "I don't know," Blake said. "It would be a shame to waste such extraordinary talents. Recruiting them might be a better option. Once I possess the contents of the Vault, I'll have a lot to offer Andrew. I can let him read the journals written by his own grandfather."

  "After everything you've done," Phillip said, "you really think Andrew might join you?"

  "The lure of forbidden knowledge and power will be irresistible. If I can't convince him to see my side of things, we can always just take control of his mind. His girlfriend is a nice bonus. She's a powerful sorcerer in her own right and easy on the eyes. The four of us would make an unstoppable team."

  "That's a very ambitious goal."

  "It's worth a try, assuming they're still alive." Blake looked towards the kitchen, hoping to see his food already, but it had only been a couple of minutes. "As soon as I've eaten, we're going back to Arizona. I'm done with this place."

  Chapter Twelve

  The elevator doors opened, and Andrew walked into the underground tunnels of BPI headquarters. They were under orders to speak with Director Frank Webster before going anywhere else.

  Tungsten followed Andrew and Charley at a distance of a few paces. Tungsten was also under orders to give a report, but he obviously wasn't eager to do so.

  Footsteps echoed up and down the stone corridor as they walked. The round tunnel had a poured concrete floor. Rough cut walls showed original tool marks. Andrew wondered what kind of equipment the miners had used to construct the tunnels.

  He sensed Richard's energy up ahead. The master sorcerer had apparently come t
o hear the news also.

  "What should we say to them?" Andrew whispered.

  "The truth," Charley said. "We have nothing to hide."

  "The truth doesn't make us look very smart."

  "So? Good men died, and you're worried about your reputation?"

  His face grew warm.

  Andrew yawned. He wanted to sleep, but the meeting with the director wouldn't wait until morning.

  They arrived at Webster's office. It had a square layout with rock walls about twenty feet long. The plain, utilitarian furniture was made mostly of sheet metal painted blue. Fluorescent bulbs produced harsh, bluish light. Webster had splurged on his chair which was thickly padded and had a high back. A picture of the President of the United States hung on the wall. Webster's modest library consisted of law books, training guides, and procedure manuals.

  The director was sitting behind his desk with a sour expression on his face. His beefy body had a straight, upright posture. The air in the office was a little warm, and he had taken off his blue jacket. His white shirt and black tie were immaculate.

  Richard always dressed like an extra from a Civil War movie. His shirt and pants were made of coarse gray fabric crudely stitched together. A lumpy, gray beard went down to the middle of his chest. His arms were deeply tanned.

  "Report," Webster said.

  Andrew looked to Charley.

  "Fine," she said. "I'll do it."

  She describe the events in Charleston. He added a few clarifications, but she got all the essential details right.

  When Charley was done, Tungsten gave the same information from a military perspective. The way he perceived situations fascinated Andrew.

  Tungsten described the episode when they were being shot at. "Bullets were coming from the northeast, but the spray pattern was wide and erratic. The shooter clearly wasn't a professional. I went down into a ravine to the west of my position, and a slight ridge allowed me to turn north safely. I didn't hear any other gunfire, but I kept my eyes open for additional threats. We didn't know how many of the White Guerillas were out there. I spotted the enemy sitting on a tree branch, and I approached from his blind side. He was armed with a FN SCAR with three spare magazines. I threw a rock at his head, and as he fell, I dislocated his right arm. I tossed his weapon into the bushes..."