by Cameron, TR
Diana asked, “You’re sure?”
Kayleigh appreciated the extra note of worry in her voice. They shared a lot of history, and those moments where Diana unconsciously reaffirmed their connection mattered to her. She wasn’t willing to do the work to psychoanalyze why they mattered. It was enough to know her boss cared about her as more than an everyday employee. Of course, I’m sure she feels that way about everyone on the team. “No. We’re good.”
Diana said, “Okay, then. I presume y’all have seen that we’re TV stars now, right?”
Both affirmatives and negatives sounded in response. Kayleigh sighed. “Not only TV. Radio, Internet, probably tomorrow’s newspapers. Pictures, descriptions. A great big ‘be on the lookout.’ They specifically used the T-word for you, boss.”
Sloan asked, “T-word?”
Diana replied, “Terrorist. Apparently, the fact that we didn’t turn over as many artifacts as we should’ve has pissed somebody off, big time.”
Tony said, “That’s what this is all about? Damn, government agencies lie a hundred times a day. Why should we be held to a different standard?”
Bryant answered, “Theoretically, we shouldn’t. Practically, lots of reasons. Our mandate is to deal with magicals, which still scares the hell out of most government people. Plus, they think Diana’s betrayed their trust. Of course, given the surveillance that must’ve been going on for quite a while to figure that out, there wasn’t all that much trust in the first place.”
Diana asked, “Can we go to Johnston? Is he still in our corner?”
Kayleigh had never met the senator but knew he was the one who’d hooked them up with the base in Antarctica, a mysterious figure at the center of a lot of stuff where magic met politics. Bryant replied, “In the wind, near as I can tell. At the very least, he hasn’t stuck his head up since this happened. We should count ourselves lucky to have anyone in the government on our side, I suppose.”
Diana said, “We should assume we can’t fully trust anyone other than the people in this room. Server. Thing. Whatever.” Kayleigh stifled a laugh as the other woman continued speaking. “We continue to follow the Zulu scenario by the numbers until I say different. That way, we know what everyone is up to.
“If you have to deviate for the sake of safety, do it, and let me know. The worst thing for the whole team right now is if one of us gets caught. That gives them leverage, even though we’d like to think we’d all be strong enough not to give in if they captured a colleague. Plus, there’s no telling what magic or drugs they can use to get secrets out of people nowadays. So, staying out of their hands is key.”
Hercules asked, casually, “How serious about that do you want us to be, Boss?”
Even Kayleigh, who spent very little time in the field, understood the subtext of his question. Diana replied, “We stay nonlethal in all circumstances, right up until the moment where it’s kill or be killed. I suppose it would be better to be captured than for any of us to wind up with a murder rap.” Silence filled the channel for a moment as everyone considered the weight of what she’d said.
Tony remarked, “Well, then, I’ll have to pick up something less lethal than my pistol.” The others made similar comments, and a few laughs and jokes were traded, especially toward Tony. They suggested he buy a Nerf gun since he was a good enough shot that he could still probably render someone unconscious with it.
As the conversation wrapped up, Diana said, “We’ll come through this, and we’ll be together again. Then we’ll figure out what’s going on and set things right. Count on it. Until then, people, stay safe.”
Everyone gave those two words as their farewells as they left the room until it was only Kayleigh and Deacon remaining. She whispered, “Stay safe, all of you,” then shut down the virtual space. Looking over at her boyfriend, she said, “Time for us to do some digging.”
Chapter Twenty
For Cara, running scenario Zulu by the books held an additional obligation not shared by most of the team. Only one other, in fact, Hank, who would doubtless be on the move already. Her destination was a four-hour drive from her location and longer for him, so she had time to visit the surplus store again and gather some outdoor clothes, a camouflage jacket, a sleeping bag, and a tent.
The drill sergeant behind the counter asked, “Hunting?”
Cara smiled. “Of a sort.”
“You keep yourself safe.”
“Will do, Bull.”
She carried the bundle to the self-storage place, then pulled out her bike and arranged the new purchases on it. She didn’t anticipate needing to use the stuff, but if something delayed Hank, it might be better to stay completely off the radar by camping rather than booking a hotel room. Kicking the motorcycle into gear, she rolled out.
As she rode, her mind was in two places at once. One part of it was able to enjoy the moment, the feel of the wind pressing against her, the sight of the scenery going by, even the scents from the occasional vehicle she passed on the back roads. None of that had been part of her life at the vimana, and it was a pleasant change. The rest of her brain tumbled through potential plans and outcomes for the op ahead and didn’t like much of what occurred to her.
Her task was to visit their backup base and ensure it was still operational. The fundamental assumption of scenario Zulu was that someone had deeply compromised them. Diana had made the split-second decision to choose the most distrusting of the defense options, and Cara had learned not to doubt her boss’s instincts on such matters. The alternate home for the team was a bunker in an abandoned army facility, long since closed, which was fine in itself.
The problem lay in that they hadn’t done the retrofit to turn it into an alternate base themselves. Various military engineering groups had outfitted it under the guise of training, sensibly calling it an emergency fallback location for military command in case of an invasion.
She’d thought the rationale was thin, but Bryant’s contacts had assured him they commonly used such stories to keep the people performing the engineering projects focused. Sure, the trainees suspected it was nonsense, but they also had a concrete goal to concentrate on.
Of course, the build had been thoroughly checked out by engineers not in training when the construction was complete and was deemed viable. Over time, they portaled in equipment, turning the bunker into a legit backup base for the team. The only thing it lacked was data. Deacon would bring that with him on hard drives containing their artificial intelligences and the records that were too sensitive to allow to exist anywhere except their very own computers.
An early suggestion had been to put the artifact vault there rather than the vimana, but Diana had refused. That had been the initial moment when Cara had realized the other woman was skirting the rules about the magical items. She still didn’t fully understand why and would eventually have to broach the topic if the boss didn’t do it first. Second in command. Need the info, she thought, channeling her inner Dr. Evil.
The problem was, all of that meant the base existed somewhere in the government’s paperwork. From what they’d seen on the flash drive Bryant had given them, government records were far from secure when someone in that government was after them. Kevin Serrano, whoever the hell that is. Jumped-up, suit-wearing bureaucrat, probably.
She pulled over to refuel the bike and herself and put the SIM card into the prepaid cell phone, making it active. She found some music on the Internet and stuck a Bluetooth earbud in one ear, leaving the other free to hear traffic and other sounds. Then she climbed back on and headed for the rendezvous point.
When she arrived, she parked the bike in the corner of a grocery store parking lot and waited. She had no idea what Hank would be driving, but he would know she’d be on a motorcycle. That meant initiating contact was his responsibility.
After about ten minutes, the last two of which she spent debating whether to try to call him, a large van with tinted windows pulled up beside her. It was shiny black, except for a bright yellow
trim that started as a double racing stripe on the hood, wrapped around the doors, the sides, and presumably the back, although she couldn’t see that from her angle.
The window slid down to reveal Hank’s smiling face. “Hey, gorgeous. Want to take a ride in my van?” He waggled his eyebrows, and Cara burst into genuine laughter. She and Hank had shared a great relationship from the moment they’d met, really like brother and sister, but with a frequent stream of innuendo and fake flirting.
Romance wasn’t possible between them. They didn’t like each other that way. Goofing around while they sparred or were on a mission was totally legit. Anik had asked her about their wordplay once, and she’d explained there wasn’t a spark, ever. Only deep trust and platonic affection. She didn’t know if he’d believed it, but that was his problem to deal with, not hers.
She locked down her bike and grabbed the important stuff from her panniers, plus the camping gear, and moved around to the back of the van. He opened the rear doors from inside, and she saw that the vehicle had six bucket seats and enough room behind them for several people to sit on the floor. Right now, the storage area held a couple of duffels and a pile of camping equipment. She shook her head. “Great minds think alike.”
He held out a hand and pulled her up into the van after she grabbed it. “Wasn’t sure what we’d find. Figured having as many options as possible was the best policy.”
“Agreed.” She settled into the passenger seat and buckled her seatbelt. “Wait for dark?”
He nodded. “Smartest move.”
“Okay, drop me off at the front door. I’ll get us snacks.”
Hank grinned. “Now that’s what I call a good plan.”
* * *
When full darkness fell, the van was parked a mile away from the bunker, on the far side of a large swath of woodland from the base. Hank had brought along commercial grade night vision goggles used by hunters, and they made good time through the forest. When they stopped at the edge of the tree line, their destination was about two hundred feet away, guarded by a barbed wire, chain-link fence. Signs warned of electrical shock, but those were lies. At least they were the last time we were here.
They stayed low, crouching as they moved through the tall grass to the fence. It held no telltale buzz of electricity, and Hank snapped the links with a small, motorized bolt cutter. She whispered, “You have the right tool for every job, don’t you?”
He laughed. “All the ladies say so.”
Cara sighed. “Walked straight into that one, didn’t I?”
Hank laughed again. “That’s another perfect setup, but I’m gonna let it go. We need to be mission-focused, right?”
“Right.”
They reached the front door, which was locked, naturally. Lifting a disguised panel revealed eight buttons they needed to push in a certain sequence. They’d all memorized the code, as well as the one that would lock it from all outside access. When she entered the correct numbers, the door unlatched. “So far, so good.”
He nodded and pulled it open enough that they could get through. She went in first, and he closed it behind them. Motion sensors detected their presence and emergency lights around them illuminated to show the entry room. A desk sat in the front, where a receptionist would sit. As if they would need that in their base. I guess it’s a useful part of the cover story. Generals wouldn’t want to be bothered.
She rolled her eyes and headed for the single door that left the space. She looked up at the globes mounted on the ceiling at the back corners of the room. Inside each was a turret that, if the facility were in defensive mode, would deploy and hose down any hostile attempting to enter with a liberal stream of bullets.
Those systems were down at the moment, thankfully. It would take time and effort to bring the bunker’s systems online, and the fact that they were down reassured her that maybe their enemies hadn’t yet discovered this particular piece of information about the team. Once we establish ourselves in here, any enemy will have a hell of a job ahead of them trying to root us out.
They made their way through the facility, heading for the control center and the armory behind it. Cara’s hands were itching to get some better weapons than the ones she carried, other than Angel and Demon, which were currently in modified shoulder holsters under her jacket. They’d wanted to have at least the appearance of being civilians if the police or another authority had stopped them, so they’d come in wearing camouflage and carrying typical hunting rifles. She was sure Hank had a pistol on him somewhere, though, as she did.
When they reached the control center, she breathed a sigh of relief. “I expected to find a whole battalion in here waiting for us.”
He nodded. “Me too. Guess we lucked out.”
She grinned. “Guess so.”
With a buzzing flicker, the lights in the room came fully to life, and the various control panels started to glow. She snapped, “Hey, premature illumination there, buddy.”
His voice held only concern as he ignored her innuendo. “Wasn’t me.”
“Shit. Grab some weapons and let’s get the hell out of here. Clever bastards. Let us make it all the way in before springing their trap.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Cara bolted into the armory a step ahead of Hank. She reached out with her telekinesis to pull a rifle off the wall, and her power failed to come. “Damn and double damn them. Anti-magic emitters.”
Her partner growled, “Well, of course. Didn’t want us simply portaling out of here.”
She took the steps over to the weapons rack, grabbed the carbine, and yanked it down. “I swear by all things holy, when I find out who’s behind all this, I’ll kick him so hard his family jewels will fly out of his mouth.”
Hank laughed. “There’s the Cara I know and love.”
“Lock down the hormones there, buddy.”
He offered a grin that completely ignored the situation they were in. “You know what they say. Danger amps up your senses. Could be hot.”
She grabbed a combat shotgun from the rack, turned, and threw it at him. He effortlessly snatched it out of the air with another laugh. She popped the magazines from two other rifles, shoving them in her jacket pockets. Then she turned, pulled the coat off, and snagged one of their custom bulletproof vests from the shelf.
Hank was next to her in a moment, doing the same after setting a Glock 17 pistol and extra magazine beside her. “Upgrade.”
She managed a smile through her anger. “Thanks, man.” She finished putting on her vest, pulled on shock gloves, and joined the lines that connected the two. If anyone blasted her with lightning, the gloves would instantly charge. Unfortunately, the batteries were all reading dead since the power hadn’t been on in the room. She looked forlornly at the open spot on the vest where an anti-magic deflector would normally be, then grabbed her jacket and zipped it up.
An equipment belt was next. She strapped the holster to her thigh and shoved the pistol into it. Who needs batteries? I have a pistol, rifle, extra mags, and Angel and Demon. Time to kick some tail.
Hank finished clicking shells into the holders attached to the shotgun. It held eight in the drum, but he had to reload it by hand. The tradeoff was that the ammunition was far more powerful than off-the-shelf models. Cara noted he’d selected the blue ones. “Remaining nonlethal in the situation is gonna suck.”
“Agreed. I’ll take out whoever I can with these stun rounds. Which I guess means I’m on point.”
“Yeah. I knew getting into the armory was too good to be true.”
He laughed. “Always the case. Never trust a gift. You ready?”
Cara ordered, “Move.” It took them five minutes of careful creeping to reach the first floor of the bunker. The building’s layout made infiltration as difficult as possible. That meant only one set of stairs connected the levels, positioned at maximum distances from other accesses.
The steps let them out at the rear of the facility, with several offices, storage areas, and open spac
es between them and freedom. She tried to summon a small flame, found that her magic was still blocked, and complained, “These people suck.”
Hank moved before her in a slow walk, the shotgun raised, his whole posture one of total attention to his surroundings. He didn’t reply. That’s because he’s in the zone, which is where you want to be. Get your shit together, Cara.
She carried her rifle with the barrel toward the floor so if it went off unexpectedly, it wouldn’t shoot her or her partner. She repeated in her mind the warning not to kill anyone. At this point, the accusations against her and Hank were false. Killing government or military agents would put them on the other side of a line they didn’t want to cross.
The attack came as a surprise, which was impressive since they were waiting for it. As they crossed an intersection between closed office doors on either side, bullets pounded through the wooden barriers and into them. Hank dove forward with a shout, and Cara threw herself backward. Her arm and leg burned like she’d taken hits, but she had no time to worry about that.
The initial barrage more or less shredded the doors, and the turrets inside the offices were visible through what remained. She lifted the rifle and hosed down the one that was swiveling in her direction. She destroyed it an instant before she would have had to dive away from the stream of bullets it was bringing toward her. The blast of the shotgun, followed by the sizzle of the ammunition and a loud bang as the other turret detonated, indicated Hank was still in the fight. She muttered through gritted teeth, “I’m hit, but functional. You?”
His voice held more anger than pain, even though she thought he’d taken several rounds. “Same. Drink up.”
She pulled the healing potion out of her jacket’s interior pocket and drank it down, wincing as it pushed a bullet out of her leg. When the repair was complete, she said, “I have an extra if you need it.