Gray Widow Trilogy 1: Gray Widow's Walk

by Dan Jolley

  “My name is Vessler,” the man said. “I work for the government. And I need your help.”

  Janey tilted her head. “Really.”

  “I know what you are, girl. I know you’re a lot more than a woman in a suit. You are what is called an augment.”

  Janey’s stomach tightened, and this time her words did emerge a little shaky.

  “Wha —” She swallowed hard. “What do you mean?”

  Vessler sighed impatiently. “It’ll take a lot less time if I just show you,” he said. “I’m like you. Not exactly like you, but pretty close. Here.” He gestured to a small puddle a few feet to his left. “I’m going to walk over to that puddle, all right?”

  Janey didn’t say anything. Vessler moved to the puddle and knelt beside it, and Janey’s eyes widened behind her mask as a faint fog began to roll off the man’s body. Vessler reached down and touched the puddle with one forefinger, and it froze straight through with a tiny brittle sound. He wedged his fingers into the dirt to one side of it, pulled the chunk of ice out of the ground, straightened up and tossed it at Janey’s feet.

  The fog quickly dissipated from around him, and his shoulders slumped a bit. She motioned with the baton, and he raised his arms again.

  “Go on,” he said. “Take a look.”

  Slowly and cautiously, Janey crouched and laid one palm against the ice, and tried to let it go as stabbing pain shot through her hand. It had frozen to the Vylar glove, and she had to hit it with the baton to get it loose.

  “I’m in the boat with you,” Vessler said calmly. “Or you’re in it with me. Either way, I need your help. I don’t think I have a lot of time.”

  Janey tried to keep her thoughts straight. Next to Simon, this guy looked pretty normal. “I still haven’t heard how this concerns me.”

  Vessler grew visibly irritated, but he controlled his voice. “How it concerns you involves an individual I think you’ve met, name of Grove.” He wiggled his fingers. “Funny hands? Big teeth? Unpleasant?”

  Janey drew in a sharp breath. “Simon.”

  “Oh, you’re on a first-name basis.”

  “Hardly. Look…you know more about all this than I do. Obviously. So explain it. How long have there been…people like us? How did it all start?”

  Vessler sighed. “If that’s what’s going to get you to trust me, fine. But I’m not telling you a story with my hands in the air.”

  Janey paused. Nodded. Vessler lowered his arms. “We don’t know what causes it. What we do know is that about seven years ago, augments—that’s our term for people like you and me—began appearing. The range of abilities we’ve documented so far goes from temperature manipulation on one end to…Simon Grove on the other. I run a private security firm called Redfell, and since I had first-hand experience with the phenomenon, I decided to start looking for others. Recruiting them if I could.”

  Janey tilted her head, her heartbeat speeding up. “Do you know what made us this way?”

  “Only theories. Though we do have a tiny little shred of evidence.”

  “Tell me.”

  “December 12, 2010. A SETI radio telescope picked up a signal. It only lasted for about a millisecond, but near as they can tell, it flashed down to the Earth’s surface from somewhere in a low orbit. A week later we picked up an augment thirty miles from where the signal landed.”

  Janey processed that. “Someone’s using a satellite to…to do this to us?”

  Vessler slowly shook his head. “It wasn’t a signal anyone had ever seen before. We’ve been trying to analyze it ever since. No luck so far.”

  “So what does that mean?”

  Vessler shrugged. “Some in the company think it’s a, for lack of a better term, a mad scientist. Some lone genius, light-years ahead of the rest of the world, playing with this new technology. Others think it was extraterrestrial.”

  “Aliens?” Janey started to scoff, but Simon’s spine-teeth and writhing fingers made her bite her tongue. She gestured with the baton. “All right. Move over against that wall.”

  “Does this mean you believe me?”

  “Just move.”

  Vessler did it. Janey stepped up behind him and patted him down. “I’m going to take us somewhere private, and we can talk some more. This is going to feel a little weird.” She put one hand on Vessler’s shoulder, and they flickered out.

  * * *

  Exactly five seconds after Janey and Vessler disappeared, a dark, bulky figure stood up from behind a ruined brick wall and turned a high-powered flashlight beam on the spot where the two of them had stood. It revealed nothing but dirt and concrete dust...but when he walked over and laid his hand on the ground, it was as hot to the touch as an Arizona sidewalk at high noon. He swept the beam side to side, but only lit up more dirt, dust, a few sections of unbroken concrete flooring—and the two sets of footprints, big as life there in the dirt.

  Reflectively, Zach Feygen said, “I’ll be damned.”

  With a chill racing around his spine and shoulders, Feygen pulled out a photocopy. As if reading a treasure map, he turned and walked about thirty feet to his right, put away the photocopy and shined the light on a fallen slab of concrete, propped up at a slight angle by a twisted I-beam.

  Feygen dropped to his belly, wriggled underneath the slab as far as he could go, and played the beam in front of him. Far back in the darkness, a metal ventilation grille was set into the floor. Feygen lay perfectly still, strained his ears and tried to filter out the occasional sounds from the highway.

  Faintly, like the tiniest whisper, he thought he could make out the sound of voices.

  * * *

  Vessler blinked his eyes in the darkness until Janey lit a candle. She led the way to a couple of Salvation Army chairs in one corner.

  “I can’t offer you much in the way of hospitality, but I’ve got some bottled water.”

  Vessler said, “No thanks,” and sat down. Janey perched on the back of the other one and leaned against the rough concrete wall. They stared at each other for a few seconds, and Janey almost laughed at how absurd they must have looked.

  Vessler gazed out into the darkness. “This is the old parking garage, isn’t it? Under the theatre? The one reserved for wealthy patrons?”

  Startled, Janey thought about denying it, but finally nodded. “It got sealed off during demolition. I’m sure they planned to knock out the ceiling and fill it in, but they never got to it.”

  “I think I parked here once, years ago. Came to see Othello. Back when it was a real theatre, and didn’t have all these hack shows, magicians and whatnot.”

  Janey bristled. “Look, you said you needed my help. With Simon...what’d you say his last name was? Grove?”

  Vessler nodded. “It’s not just him, though. I’ve got to give you some more background here, all right?”

  “Go ahead.”

  He cleared his throat. “As I said up top, I run—until tonight, I ran a company that’s been dealing with people like you. Now, by my way of thinking, that means observing people, determining whether or not their abilities could be useful, and if they are, recruiting them.”

  “Recruiting them how?”

  “Offering them positions. Giving them jobs.”

  “Like your job now?”

  “Well...I’m an administrator, much as I hate to say it. We mainly train and farm out operatives. Very specialized operatives. Until very recently, I was among the more powerful augments we knew about…until Simon Grove came into the picture. Until you showed up. Just imagine how much mileage the CIA could get out of your abilities.”

  “I’d rather not. A minute ago you said ‘by my way of thinking.’ Someone else doesn’t share your opinion?”

  “That’s right.” Vessler looked old and tired for a moment. “Three years ago I took on a business partner named Derek Stamford. I di
dn’t realize it at first, but Stamford thinks any augment who doesn’t sign up needs to disappear. Feelings in the company started polarizing a couple of years ago, and people with the wrong idea started to outnumber the rest of us. Stamford got it in his head to get rid of me and claim Redfell for himself. So he and his cohorts set me up. Grove was my responsibility, you understand, I was supposed to bring him in. Tonight Grove showed up at my hotel and killed two of my men. Tried to kill me. That was exactly what Stamford was waiting on—for me to either end up dead or be proven incompetent—and now I’ve been...eh...sanctioned. Cut off.”

  “Wait, I’m confused. Simon was already in this other faction?”

  Vessler blew out a long breath. “Here’s where it’s good that you’re an augment. You’ll be able to accept this. One of our people—until tonight I believed she was not an augment—her name is Jorden, Brenda Jorden. She seems to be able to exert some sort of influence over people. I think it’s chemical, something her body produces, and she’s used someone very close to me, a boy named Scott. She’s done this thing to both of them—Scott and Grove—used this control. Now Grove’s still out there, and she still has Scott, and as long as she has power over them she can find us, either one of us. And send Grove after us.”

  “How would she find us?”

  “Scott’s a remote viewer. We’ve trained him to look for other augments. He picked up on Grove for the first time a couple of weeks ago, and the second time he tried it he found you, too. Of course, we didn’t know at the time we were looking at the world-famous Gray Widow.”

  “Wait, wait, if she knows where we are, she can tell anybody, right? The other people in your group?”

  “Right—but I don’t think she will, at least not just yet. She enjoys hoarding information too much, waits to see how she can best use it. The point is, neither of us is safe as long as the situation stays the way it is.”

  “This is…it’s a lot to take in all at once. Before I saw Simon, I didn’t think there was anybody else like me. Then him, and now you, and you’re telling me there’s, what, hundreds? Thousands?”

  “No. Dozens at most, at least in this country. We’re not as certain about foreign matters.” Vessler abruptly grew impatient. “Look, let me help you along. I got cut off tonight. I don’t have any support. You have the means to put an end to this whole sorry mess, and you need to get off your ass and do it, Ms. Sinclair.”

  Janey gasped. She couldn’t help it.

  “There’s a surprise for you, huh? Didn’t think anybody knew? Scott managed to clear his head enough tonight to contact me and tell me what’s going on. Saved my life. He knows who you are, along with Brenda Jorden and Simon Grove. Your name, where you live.”

  Janey put her face in her hands. “Oh my God.”

  “Yeah. Now, I don’t know if Jorden’s told anybody else. Maybe not, she may be holding on to it, seeing if she can use it for something. But aside from making sure Grove doesn’t hurt anyone else, I’d say it’s in your best interest to do what I’m asking you to.”

  “If you were going to blackmail me the whole time, why all this song and dance?”

  Tightly: “Because I’m not a total son of a bitch. I thought I might convince you.”

  Janey breathed slowly, in and out, in and out. “How do I know you won’t tell anyone?”

  Vessler shrugged. “You take out Grove, get Scott back to me safely, I figure I’ll be in your debt.”

  “That’s it? My debt?”

  Vessler folded his arms across his chest. “That’s all you’ve got.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  3:36 a.m.

  The dancing blue-white of a television screen was the only light visible in the house, which looked exactly as Vessler had described it: slightly run-down and isolated. One car sat in the driveway, a late-model Ford matching Vessler’s description of the car Brenda Jorden had been assigned.

  Janey flickered onto the screened-in back porch and crouched close to the wall. Inching forward, she peered in through the glass door that opened onto the living room. An infomercial played on a big RCA television. No one watched it.

  Another flicker, and she crouched beside the sofa. The house smelled...not bad, quite, but thick with something. She sniffed experimentally, tried to identify the smell. Musky, a little like perfume, but not as well-defined.

  Her head felt funny.

  Janey blinked a couple of times and moved carefully to the hall doorway. Scott was probably in one of the bedrooms, if he was here at all; Vessler wasn’t sure whether or not Jorden knew about the call Scott had made to him. If she did, Scott may be lying in a ditch somewhere with a hole in his head. Janey took a deep, slow breath and started down the hallway.

  A door on the left stood slightly ajar, and Janey pushed it a few inches open, standing to one side. She’d cranked her night vision up to the top, and immediately saw a countertop and linoleum on the floor.

  Bathroom.

  She moved to the next door.

  Even before she touched it she knew Scott was inside. She could hear slow, labored breathing. It didn’t sound healthy. Janey didn’t know what kind of shape the boy would be in, or whether or not he’d be able to walk. Not that that mattered, really, as far as getting him out of here.

  Outside the bedroom door Janey wondered whether or not the house’s peculiar odor was related to Jorden’s “persuasive” personal scent. Vessler’s words stayed with her: “I only know what Scott told me tonight, and he didn’t have time to say much. But if she can control people like he says, for God’s sake stay away from her. He said she does it mostly through touch. Maybe if you keep the suit on, and she can’t get to your skin, that’ll help. What’s your sexual orientation?”

  That took Janey off-guard. “Wh-huh? Why?”

  “Jorden’s damned attractive, and I don’t know if she’d use that along with the control thing or not, but be aware of it.”

  “I like men,” Janey said, feeling lame.

  “All right, well, just get in, get Scott, and get out. Once we have him we can use him to locate Jorden and Grove.”

  That bothered Janey. We can use him... Cold phrasing for someone Vessler claimed to care about so much. Or maybe that was the only way Vessler knew how to talk.

  Janey eased open the door to Scott’s room.

  Scott Charles lay on the narrow twin bed. Vessler had warned Janey about Scott’s appearance, but even considering the lack of both pigment and exercise, Scott Charles still looked like hell. Janey glanced around the room and checked the closet before she went to Scott’s side.

  “Scott,” she whispered, next to the boy’s ear. “Scott, wake up. Vessler sent me here to get you.”

  The breathing faltered, and Scott opened his eyes and turned his head. On impulse Janey ducked down, out of sight. She couldn’t take her mask off just then, and she didn’t want to scare the boy to death.

  “Who’s there?” Scott murmured weakly. “I can’t see you.”

  “It’s okay. I’m here to help.”

  Scott muttered something incoherent and shifted on the bed. He seemed atrophied, everything about him, not just his musculature. Weak moonlight fed through the slatted blinds and silvered his face.

  Slowly, his tendons creaking like an old man’s, Scott rose up and fixed his eyes on Janey. The mask didn’t alarm him in the slightest. “You. You got here.” Scott’s words mixed fear and reverence. “I’ve been reading about you.”

  “Yeah?” Developmentally, Scott Charles didn’t look a day past eleven. A tiny old man inside a sick boy’s body. He wore only frayed pajama bottoms, and ribs poked out from his pitifully thin torso.

  “We’ve got to get out of here, right now,” Scott said. “I don’t know where they are, but they’re here somewhere. You can get us away, can’t you?”

  “Yes,” Janey said reassuringly. “Can you stand up?”


  “Lie back down, Scott,” a gorgeous female voice said behind Janey, just as a floor joist squealed. Janey whirled around to face Brenda Jorden, standing in the doorway, a goddess in the faint moonlight—and a hand like a brick crashed into the side of Janey’s head. She staggered sideways.

  Ned Fields didn’t give Janey any time to recover. The small man jumped on her, and the impact was like getting hit by a car. The two of them crashed to the floor, multi-colored spots flashing in Janey’s eyes. She scrambled for the two extra items clipped to her belt as she remembered Vessler’s description.

  “Fields is dense,” the older man had said. “And I don’t mean mentally. He’s not but about five-five, but last time I checked, the man weighed nearly four hundred pounds. He’s got muscles like concrete, and skin like iron. I don’t think you could lift a gun big enough to do him any serious damage, and forget trying to get a needle into him.”

  “Great,” Janey said. “So what, then?”

  “So we have to get a little imaginative.” Vessler picked an item off Janey’s pegboard and held it up in the candlelight. “With a little modification, this will do just fine. I don’t suppose you have another?”

  On the floor of Scott’s room, Ned Fields balled up a fist like the head of a sledgehammer and drew it back. Janey knew that fist would break whatever bone it hit, so she didn’t give it the chance. She pulled the customized stun-gun off her belt, rammed it into Fields’ crotch and turned on the current.

  Brenda Jorden and Scott Charles both watched open-mouthed.

  Fields yelped like a shot dog and exploded backwards, and with a wrench in her stomach Janey watched as one of Fields’ flailing hands clipped Scott across the chin with a sickening crack. The boy crumpled on the bed. But Fields’ eyes didn’t close and he didn’t lose consciousness, and Janey knew he’d be back at her in a matter of seconds. So she took the other stun-gun off her belt, the one that she’d fitted with a cord and male adapter, found a wall socket next to Scott’s computer desk, and plugged it in.