by Siegel, Alex
All the guards came forward. Their black jackets did a poor job of covering guns in holsters.
Tonya looked around and was obviously trying to decide how to deal with several threats at once. She appeared uncertain.
Andrew decided to take the initiative. He stepped over to Tonya and put his hand on the Raven. The physical contact allowed him to draw more power. His awareness expanded until it filled the room, and his mind touched the minds of all the guards.
"Relax," he said. "We're all good friends. Let us through without any trouble."
The guards stopped. After a moment, they returned to their positions in the corners.
"That was broadcast sorcery," Tonya whispered to Andrew.
"So?" he whispered.
"We'll discuss it later."
The team finally entered Panetta's private office, and it was the biggest office Andrew had ever seen. Antique furniture with gold leaf accents looked like it had come from a king's palace. Stuffed animal heads hung on the walls, and the collection included a tiger. The windows were so thick and dark, he almost couldn't see through them.
A man sat behind a massive desk. Short, black hair had some gray on the sides. The odd orange color of his face indicated he liked spray-on tans. He was wearing a green checkered jacket and a blue shirt.
He stood up. "What's going on?"
Two other men were having a meeting with him. More guards were in the room, and Andrew sensed trouble brewing.
Tonya handed the Raven to him.
Andrew drew all the power he could from the tiny seam. "We have an appointment. Everything is fine. No reason to be concerned. We just need a few minutes alone with Mr. Panetta. Thank you."
The room cleared out leaving Panetta alone with Andrew's team. Charley was giving Andrew funny looks, but he wasn't sure why. The door closed.
"I don't remember why we have an appointment," Panetta said. "Do I know you?"
"We've never met," Tungsten said.
Andrew was still holding the Raven. He walked over to Panetta and took a peek into his mind. Andrew immediately saw signs of sorcerous manipulation.
"Blake was here," he announced.
Tonya came over. "You're right." She stared into Panetta's eyes. "His mind is scrambled like an egg."
"What are you talking about?" Panetta said.
"I think I can fix him," Andrew said.
"Let me," Tonya said. "You tend to stomp around like an elephant, and this is a delicate case. Enough damage has been done."
He gave her the portable seam.
"What's that?" Panetta said. "Some kind of figurine? What are you doing?"
Tonya smiled. "Relax. The waking nightmare will be over soon. Sit."
He sat on his chair. Andrew sensed Tonya's power swell as she went into Panetta's mind, but Andrew didn't follow her in. There was no reason for him to get involved, and he was learning to not invade a person's privacy without good cause.
Charley pulled him aside. "How did you do that?"
"Do what?"
"Control an entire room full of people all at once instead of one at a time."
"I don't know." Andrew shrugged. "I just kind of inflated my mind like a balloon until it touched everybody else."
"We never practiced anything like that."
"It didn't seem hard."
Charley raised an eyebrow. "Sometimes you scare me a little."
Panetta began to scream hysterically. Andrew looked over in shock at the unexpected reaction.
Panetta opened one of his desk drawers and pulled out a gun. It was a beautiful piece with a gold and black finish. He aimed at Tonya's head.
A bullet went through Panetta's head instead. Blood sprayed out the back onto antique furniture. Andrew turned and saw Tungsten holding a smoking gun.
"I had to stop him," Tungsten explained.
The door of the office slammed open, and men holding guns looked in. They were too far away for Andrew to influence their minds, and he wasn't holding the seam anyway. Tonya was at the wrong end of the room.
Tungsten shot the men with the speed and precision of an Old West gunfighter. His skill astonished Andrew. Tungsten ran over to the door, closed it again, and locked it.
"We need another way out!" he yelled.
Andrew ran to the nearest window, but it was immediately obvious they couldn't escape that way. The window had no opening mechanism, and the inch-thick glass looked bulletproof.
He looked around. "There isn't another door!"
"A crook like Panetta always has another door!"
"Give me the Raven!" Charley said. "I'll find it!"
Tonya tossed the idol to Charley. She ran to the nearest wall and used her free hand to scan the surface. Andrew knew she was an expert at physical sorcery, but he had never seen her use it this way before. She was sensing what was hidden like an X-ray machine.
Everybody has a surprise today, Andrew thought.
Tungsten was facing the door with a gun in each hand. He was ready to blast whoever came through. Andrew took his own gun from under his shirt. He wasn't an expert shot like Tungsten but still knew how to kill.
Tonya helped Charley find the exit. Andrew sensed both women emitting powerful energy which pulsed harmonically.
Somebody pounded loudly on the office door.
"Come out of there!" a man yelled in an Italian accent. "Or we're coming in after you!"
Andrew smirked. It was a stupidly obvious thing to say.
Tungsten's guns didn't waver a millimeter.
"Stay out," he called. "Panetta is hurt, but he's not dead. If you bust in here, we'll finish him off."
"What do you want?" the mobster yelled through the door.
"Money, a million dollars, cash. And a car. That Rolls Royce in the lot looked good."
"If Panetta dies, you're dead. We'll kill you and your family. We'll rip out your guts while you watch. They'll tell horror stories about how bad you died."
"Sure," Tungsten said. "Get the money!"
Andrew knew Tungsten was just buying a little time but he did it well. Tungsten had just the right amount of desperate greed in his voice. Andrew was shaking in his shoes, but Tungsten had the apparent confidence of a man who faced an army of angry mobsters every day.
"Found it!" Charley said.
She and Tonya were standing in front of a cabinet made of white ash with ebony inlays. Charley ran her fingers along the side of the cabinet, and Andrew could tell she was using all the sorcery she could muster. A tall skinny panel released creating an opening big enough to slip through.
"Let's go!" she said.
She stepped into the cabinet, and Tonya followed her.
"Tungsten," Andrew said, "we're going."
Tungsten nodded. "Go. I'll cover your escape."
Andrew ran to the cabinet and looked inside. A cramped space had a ladder going down into a dark hole. He couldn't see what was below, but it had to be better than his current situation. He grabbed the ladder and climbed down.
He reached an underground tunnel with concrete walls. Red LED lights provided barely enough illumination for him to see. He jogged to catch up to Tonya and Charley.
"Wait for Tungsten," he told the women.
Everybody stopped.
"Finding that secret door was quite a trick," Andrew said.
"Thanks." Charley smiled. "Not as nice a trick as yours though."
"We have to talk about that," Tonya said. "Broadcast mind-control is even more forbidden than regular mind-control. I intentionally didn't mention the possibility to you. It's unfortunate you discovered the spell on your own. The opportunities for abuse are obvious."
"Can you do it?" Andrew said.
"I've never tried, and I don't want to."
He was shocked. He had assumed she had mastered every spell in the book.
"I didn't realize," he said. "It seemed like an obvious thing to try at the time."
"I suppose that comes from being a war mage," Tonya said. "You natura
lly gravitate to the most dangerous and destructive arts. When we get out of here, you'll get a history lesson."
Tungsten caught up to them. "We can go," he said breathlessly. "I left a booby-trap to slow them down."
"What kind of booby-trap?" Andrew said.
The concussion from an explosion knocked dust from the ceiling. Clouds of particles drifted downwards.
"A grenade," Tungsten said. "Move!"
The team jogged down the tunnel until they came to a door made of steel plate. Straps held blocks of plastic explosive against the door. Wires ran between the charges and a trigger on the door handle. Sensors mounted around the door acted as additional triggers.
"It's a bomb," Andrew said.
"That's obvious," Tungsten said. "It's a one-way door. If anybody tries to come through the wrong way, they'll get blown up, and the tunnel will collapse. We have to disarm it." He studied the door. "I see a keypad, but of course, we don't know the combination. Inconvenient."
"You know how to disarm bombs?"
"I've had some training." Tungsten knelt for a closer look.
Andrew glanced back down the tunnel nervously. Pursuit would come eventually.
Tungsten pointed to a tiny circuit board. "That's the control module. It's got external power with battery backup. Messing with it would be a bad idea. If only we had some liquid nitrogen."
"Why?" Charley said.
"The cold stops the chemical reactions in the batteries. Then I could break the circuit safely."
"I have another way to stop chemical reactions."
She placed her hand on the control module. She was holding the Raven in the other hand, and Andrew sensed power flowing through her body. Her focus was absolute. She gently squeezed the module, and it crumbled into dust, batteries and all.
Tungsten whistled. "I could definitely get used to having sorcerers on my team." He opened the door, and it didn't explode.
The three sorcerers hurried onwards, but Tungsten hung back. Andrew looked over his shoulder. Tungsten was doing something with a fragmentation grenade and the open door.
"Come on!" Andrew yelled.
"In a sec," Tungsten said.
"Another booby-trap?"
"Yes."
"But the grenade will set off the rest of the explosives," Andrew said.
"Exactly."
Tungsten finished his work and caught up with the team.
They continued down the tunnel until they came to a ladder. They quickly climbed. Charley was in the lead, and she pushed open a trap door. The team emerged into a metal tool shed. Rusty tools hung on the walls, and yellow dust covered a lawnmower.
Tungsten cracked open the door of the shed and peeked out. "It's clear," he announced.
He led the sorcerers through the backyard of a home, and they reached a residential street. Andrew spotted Panetta's building a block away.
"Nice escape route," Andrew said.
Tungsten nodded. "Gangsters are good at getting out of trouble."
An enormous blast lifted a fountain of dirt high in the air. Andrew covered his face as debris rained down. When he could see again, a huge hole had opened up in the street, the sidewalk, and the front yard of a house.
"I love booby-traps," Tungsten said. "Wait here while I get the car."
"But it's not safe," Andrew said. "The mobsters will see you."
"We can't leave our luggage behind." Tungsten ran off.
The sorcerers ducked behind the corner of a house where a bush screened them.
"Is he always like this?" Tonya said.
"Yes," Andrew said.
"It's exhausting. Oh, I heard about Dan. I'm sorry."
"We weren't that close, but it's still hard to lose somebody you spent so much time with. He was a good man."
Charley nodded. "Very dedicated, and too young to die. He had his whole life in front of him."
Nobody spoke for a moment as they reflected on Dan's death.
"You mentioned a history lesson?" Andrew said.
"Yes," Tonya said. "The history of modern war mages."
He perked up.
"Sadly, there isn't much to say. I know one died in 1920 at the age of twenty-four. Another perished at the tender age of twenty-three in 1950. The one before you died in 1993."
"How old was he?" Andrew said in a worried tone.
"Twenty," Tonya said. "Are you seeing the pattern?"
"Yes."
"Your kind don't have a long shelf life. You're very scary, and eventually, somebody will take you out just to eliminate the threat. Even other sorcerers are afraid of you. Keeping a low profile would serve you well. I also recommend avoiding spells like broadcast mind-control. Flaunting your power will definitely shorten your life expectancy, or at a minimum, get you thrown in prison."
He looked into her blue eyes and saw genuine concern.
"OK," he said softly. "I get it. Thanks for the advice."
She smiled and patted him on the arm. "It's OK. You'll figure it out."
The sound of a car drew Andrew's attention to the street. Tungsten was driving up in their red sedan. The sorcerers ran out from their hiding spot and climbed into the car. Tungsten drove off as soon as everybody was seated.
"Did you have any trouble getting the car?" Andrew said.
"Some," Tungsten said.
"You don't look hurt."
"I'm not."
Andrew waited for Tungsten to elaborate, but he remained silent.
Andrew's phone rang. The caller ID showed Frank Webster's number. Andrew accepted the call and put the phone in speaker mode so everybody could hear.
"How's it going in Las Vegas?" Webster said.
"We ran into some difficulties," Andrew said.
"That's unfortunate."
"Is there a specific reason why you called?"
"The Vault is being moved tonight," Webster said. "I was hoping you would catch Blake before then."
"No such luck."
"I don't know where the Army is taking the stuff. It's all hush-hush, top secret, cloak of night."
"Maybe we should ride along," Andrew said. "We might sense Blake coming."
"But then you'd know the location of the new Vault. That can't happen unless you're willing to die at the end of the operation."
"Uh, no."
"I didn't think so," Webster said.
Andrew checked his watch. "How much time do we have?"
"Several hours, I think. Put them to good use."
"We will. Is that all?"
"Yes," Webster said. "Bye."
Andrew put away his phone. "We need to figure out our next step."
"I may have something," Tonya said. "When I was inside Panetta's head, I glimpsed a few important memories. Give me a minute to pull them together."
Andrew looked out the window at a residential neighborhood. The single-story homes were generally small. Instead of grassy lawns, most houses used cacti or native bushes planted in gravel. The obvious goal was to save water, but he didn't like the aesthetics of a gravel front yard. The predominant colors were white, yellow, or light brown, but everything had a sun-bleached appearance.
"I remember two things," Tonya said. "First, Blake is doing some kind of construction project. He spent a lot of Panetta's money on land and materials."
"What the hell could he be constructing?" Charley said.
"I don't know. I didn't get any details except the project is costing millions. The other memory involves a company called SocialTech. It's important somehow. It will be our next stop."
Chapter Seventeen
"Attention!" a drill sergeant barked.
Fifty men in US Army uniforms snapped to attention in the fading light of a setting sun. They were standing on the sandy grounds of the Titan II missile complex owned by Blake. All fifty were freshly shaved and had neatly trimmed hair. In accordance with the Army standard, not a single beard or bushy mustache was in sight. Earrings and other piercings had also been removed. The uniforms and boots wer
e all clean and properly sized. With their slim, athletic bodies, the men certainly had the appearance of real soldiers.
They weren't real though. They worked for Panetta, and Blake had selected them carefully for tonight's operation. They had spent all day marching in formation and learning their parts.
The drill sergeant was legitimate at least. Blake had brought him over from Mumford Army Base to teach the thugs how to behave like soldiers.
Blake watched with approval as the sergeant walked along the lines of men. The sergeant stopped occasionally to bark an order, and the men complied eagerly. All had been promised extremely generous pay if the operation succeeded. Like so many other promises Blake had made lately, it was a bald-faced lie.
"They look good," Phillip said.
Blake faced the boy who stood at his side. "Yes. The plan should work."
"If it doesn't?"
"We'll run away and try again when the heat dies down, I suppose."
"You're old," Phillip said. "You don't have many tries left."
"Thanks for mentioning that, kid."
Blake felt a pang of jealousy. Phillip had all of his abilities but none of his physical ailments. When Blake was rotting in the grave, Phillip would still be in the prime of his life. Sorcerers could do many wondrous things, but evading the grasp of old age and illness wasn't one of them. Chaos always won in the end.
Blake heard whispers and impolite chuckles, and he looked at his assassins off to the side. The entire squad, all six of them, were present. They had been real soldiers once and still looked the part. No doubt they thought the fake soldiers were an embarrassment.
Blake wondered if the six of them were a match for all fifty of Panetta's men. It was very possible. Blake had chosen the assassins for their legendary reputations as killers. They had taken contracts all over the world, and several major governments had issued arrest warrants. Now the assassins were Blake's pets.
He checked his watch. "We have hours of free time. The convoy might not get here until early morning."
He couldn't wait for the show to get started, and he had the jitters of an actor on opening night. So much planning and preparation had gone into tonight's operation. The road had been long and very bloody.
"Let's check the gadgets again," Phillip said.