Good. That ought to be enough.
Trent, Sabrina and I are having dinner with Mom, I added.
Have a nice time.
Will do.
"Okay, baby, we're clear," I leaned down to give Sabrina a quick peck. "What are you hungry for?"
"What does your mom want?" she asked and smiled.
The new and improved Sabrina, Trent sent.
Damn straight.
Randl
"Where are you going?" Zanfield asked after I delivered him to the VIP suite we occupied. Dori, Vik and David stood inside the door, waiting to take custody of Zanfield so I could leave again.
"The CSD holding facility," I said.
His eyes lit up immediately. He wanted to go.
"If I take you," I warned, "You have to stay quiet and be disguised. We may be meeting minions of the Prophet, who don't need to see you at all."
"It's that dangerous?"
"It could be. I'm not taking chances with your life; I don't care what you say or think."
"Then disguise me," he held out his arms, as if he expected an elaborate production to commence.
"Done," I shrugged. "You could be any agent, now."
"I don't see a difference," he said, looking down at himself.
"Here." I pulled a hand mirror to me and held it up for him.
"I hate brown hair," he complained.
"Really?" I snatched the mirror away and sent it back to the bathroom. "If you want to come with me, you live with brown hair."
"I want my mommy," he teased.
"Oh, for cripes' sake," Dori sighed.
With Zanfield in tow, I transported the five of us to the holding facility.
Did you have to bring him? Kooper asked as Zanfield stayed close behind me at the facility. Dori, Vik and David trailed the trillionaire, keeping watch over his every move.
I have my reasons, I replied.
I hope they're good ones. I wouldn't normally allow anyone except agents and law enforcement in here.
I know.
"Come on, let's go see the prisoners," Kooper blew out a breath before leading the way toward the cells.
Travis
Mom chose the most exclusive restaurant at the Sandswept, and invited Wyatt and Jayna to dinner, too. Mom didn't come alone—Gavin sat on one side while Merrill took the other.
Those two old vampires were powerful enough to destroy anyone who came at her, if she didn't choose to do it herself.
Rigo is out snooping around, Mom sent as she studied her menu.
She'd named another ancient vampire, who, like Gavin and Merrill, was among her mated inner circle. Rigo, master of spies, was a member of the Rith N'aeri, The Order of the Nightflower, from Hraede.
He'd shortened his name from Rigovarnus I, a former king of Hraede.
He's snooping with Kell, am I right?
Kell was the one who, thousands of years ago, made the dying Rigo a vampire in the first place. Few knew that, however. The Order of the Nightflower was comprised of former Hraedan Kings, all of whom were vampires, now. They'd formed a spy network and were adept at creating undetectable poisons. They were quite useful when it came to planetary security.
Yep. Mom's reply was short.
Do you know what? I began.
It's better if you don't ask.
All right.
The waiter had arrived at our table, ready to take orders when the explosion happened.
"It's the holding facility," Mom half-shouted and pulled all of us out of the restaurant in a blink.
Chapter Nineteen
Founder's Palace, Campiaa
Randl
It happened in the oddest way—the explosion. The Prophet had made the two criminals into walking bombs, hoping someone would arrest them.
They were expendable to him, as he'd already made use of their particular talents. The odd part came when they were recognized first by Zanfield.
By all accounts, the holding facility was still on fire, and the occasional tongues of flame could be seen from the Founder's Palace. Kooper was now asking questions while fielding reports from Jett and the emergency crews surrounding the facility.
"I've made purchases from them—through an agent, of course," Zanfield held up a hand. "I like ancient coins. They deal in those things. All of mine have certificates of authenticity—I've had them thoroughly checked or I wouldn't buy," he snapped at Kooper, who was doing his best to intimidate Zanfield.
"He's not the enemy, Director," I said, my voice sounding weary, even to myself.
"Why would the Prophet choose those two—to act as explosives when you showed up?" Wyatt asked, attempting to draw Kooper's attention away from Zanfield.
"He's already tried that once—with Phorde Gaster," Travis reminded Kooper. "This is just another attempt on your life and Jett's life. You were both outside the cell when Zanfield named the two inside it."
"You're saying this was another trap?"
"I think the Prophet was hoping it would come to that," I said. "Look at it this way—you haven't found any other criminals on Charla's list, have you?"
"Not yet," Kooper grunted.
"The rest of them are waiting for their orders to come from the Prophet, I imagine. These two—they wanted to throw the ASD and CSD into turmoil, and with those that we couldn't save at the facility, it will certainly play to the Prophet's advantage."
"But dealers in ancient coins?" Zanfield frowned at me. "That doesn't make any sense."
"I wish I could have more time to study both," I sighed. "Maybe I could have seen something in them that would explain why they were used for this."
"Did you see anything at all?" Kooper asked.
"I saw fleeting images of Adarr Gramm and Rale Linn, so it's likely they've had dealings with those two. The spreading obsession wasn't completely overruling their minds, but it was close enough."
"Do you think they knew they were humanoid bombs?" Queen Lissa and two of her mates were nearby, listening to everything the rest of us discussed.
"I'm not sure they understood that, no. I saw no fear in either," I said.
"I'm concerned there may be more out there like them, set to detonate at inopportune times and in strategic places," Wyatt said.
"That's not a comforting thought," Kooper said. "Jett's trying to calm the city and his people at the same time. He'll have his hands full, so we have to pick up the slack and keep our eyes on the Prophet and his people."
"I think he was only hoping to target Jett and Kooper again," I pointed out. "Let's face it—if he bombs other places, the Conclave attendees will evacuate in droves."
"That makes sense," Merrill, one of Lissa's mates, agreed.
"You say you had Zanfield disguised?" Kooper turned to me.
"Yes—to anyone outside our group."
"The Prophet couldn't see who he actually was?"
"No, Director."
"Good. Staggs, I'd put you on the payroll if I thought you needed the money," Kooper blew out a breath. "From now on, if you see someone you recognize that isn't a gambler or a casino employee, let Randl know."
"I will, but only because I owe Randl for my life."
"Whatever it takes," Kooper said. "Everybody, back to your posts. Keep me informed if you see anything out of place."
"Does he bark like that all the time?" Zanfield asked when we set down inside his suite.
"Pretty much, but he has a tough job," David said. "You'd bark, too, if you had his responsibilities."
"I'm beginning to see that," Zanfield said. "Thank you for pulling us out of that facility," Zanfield told me. "All I remember is seeing the blast in front of my face, and then we were in the Founder's library."
"He pulled me and my crew out of an exploding ship," Dori said.
"Which ship?"
"Mine," she shrugged.
"You're a ship captain?"
"She is," I said. "As are Travis and Trent."
"Things only get stranger as we go along," Zanfield sa
id. "Anyone want to share a bottle of Dark Royal whiskey with me?"
"I'll have some," David replied immediately.
Dark Royal deserved its name, I decided. I woke with a royal headache the following morning, and nursed it and a cup of tea while studying a live feed of the map I'd created for Kooper.
I was also reviewing the news-vids on the holding facility bombing, which was attributed to two criminal dissidents picked up the day before.
I'm sure the Prophet was crowing somewhere, although by all accounts, official and otherwise, he'd missed his two main targets.
"So." Zanfield pulled a chair beside my desk and settled there as if he were a King visiting his Prime Minister.
"And?" I asked, although I didn't interrupt my work.
"What say we look into what our coin dealers were doing before they exploded."
"How?"
"Ask the proprietors of the shop next to theirs, of course."
I lifted my head and stared out the window of Zanfield's suite for a moment. "Where is their shop? Does Jett know about it?"
"I doubt it. It's listed under different ownership."
"But you know about it because you're a customer."
"Yes."
"Let's go." I stood, attempted to work the kinks out of my shoulders and back, then turned to Zanfield. No evidence of a hangover, whatsoever.
"I hate you, by the way," I said.
"You don't mean that. It takes a while to get used to Dark Royal. Most people never get it."
"Because it's five thousand a bottle," I agreed. We'd emptied three the night before.
"You should try Mad King next—it's even more potent," he laughed.
"I'll take that under advisement. Where is this shop you speak of? Never mind, I can see it floating in your eyes."
"That's unnerv," he didn't finish because I folded him out of the suite.
"Master Staggs." The man bowed so low I thought he'd topple over when Zanfield walked into his shop. "What may we do for you today?"
The proprietor of the neighboring shop was also a coin dealer, I learned as I looked about me. The shop was quite discreet and hidden in an alley that housed other discreet businesses.
Jewelry shops, highly priced art and pottery, precious metal sculptures, gemstones—it was all here.
"Nang sent me a recent brochure of new acquisitions," Zanfield said. "I was hoping to ah, see them, only I learned that he may no longer be available to do so."
"Ah. So sad," the round-faced coin dealer agreed. "You will be pleased to know, however, that I took what he didn't buy from those vendors. I think you'll find these coins quite interesting. Very seldom on the market, too."
"Then of course I wish to see," Zanfield said. His tone implied that the dealer was wasting time in bringing them, in his estimation.
"Yes, yes. Just a moment, then." The dealer disappeared into the back of the store, only to reappear moments later with a sealed box and a security guard.
I blinked, because I now saw what the box contained and who the dealer received the coins from. He had no idea how Rale Linn came by a treasure of gold coins from Vogeffa II, but he wanted everything that Nang hadn't bought from Adarr Gramm.
The Prophet had both of them—in fact and not just in speculation.
That meant he had their entire empires, too, and Jett and Kooper had no idea who or what those resources were.
We were in big trouble.
Kooper, I sent, Look at this. The dealer opened the sealed box for Zanfield, and lying on black velvet were rows of gold coins from Vogeffa II. The Prophet owns Adarr Gramm and Rale Linn, now, I said. These coins came from Linn, and the ones Nang had came from Gramm.
How? Kooper sent, before he began to curse. I'll get Jett. Have Zanfield buy that box of coins. We'll raid those shops later.
All right. Zanfield, buy the box, I know what those are, I sent to him.
"I'll take the entire box," Zanfield said after studying the coins.
"Very good, sir. Your taste is impeccable, as always." The dealer slid a comp-vid in Zanfield's direction. Zanfield slid his own toward the dealer and the transaction was completed.
I'm sure there were more zeros tied to it than I may have dreamed any gold coins could bring.
Nevertheless, we walked out of the shop a short time later, the box in my hands as we searched for a hidden spot to fold space.
"What are these things anyway? I've never seen them before," Zanfield said as he and I ate sandwiches and stared at his purchase.
"Ancient coins from Vogeffa II," I said.
"You're joking. No wonder they cost so much. Those things are impossible to find—I've only read about them before, and nobody had images," he explained.
"You own some now," I pointed out.
We're raiding the shops, Kooper sent. I'll let you know what we find.
"ASD and CSD are raiding the shops," I said. "You may be the only one who got away with any of these." I jerked my head toward the open box.
"Even better," Zanfield laughed.
"Zanfield," I said.
"What?" He'd heard the seriousness in my tone.
"Do you have a way of protecting yourself?"
"What do you mean? Besides the numerous ASD agents around me?"
"Yes. Besides them."
"I have a laser pistol hidden in my trunk."
"Come with me," I said.
"Where?"
"To Travis and Trent's ship," I said. "I think you'll need something better than a laser pistol, and soon."
"This is genius," Zanfield breathed as the printing machine aboard BlackWing X set his new ranos pistol on the tray.
"A genius designed it," I agreed. "This pistol will only allow you to use it, and it fires a limited number of shots before it melts. Don't abuse your ownership or I'll melt it ahead of time, all right?"
"Yes, sir," Zanfield murmured as he lifted his new weapon. "I never thought I'd get to hold one," he breathed.
"Keep it hidden. Kooper finds out you have it and we're both dead, all right?"
"No worries, these lips are locked."
He'd picked up David's favorite phrase after drinking with the dwarf the night before.
"Right," I said.
"How soon?" Zanfield's voiced turned serious.
"Soon, I think. Don't let your guard down. Ever. If you see the dead approaching, fire at will."
"The—dead?"
"Know what a necromancer is?"
"Those are myths."
"Then the Prophet is a myth." I slapped Zanfield's shoulder. "Let's go back to the Eclipse. I feel a storm coming."
Founder's Palace
Kooper
"Do we or do we not release this information? Once it's released, it could precipitate the Prophet's attack," I said.
Jett, Teeg, Wyatt, Lissa and a few others, Ildevar Wyyld included, had met with me in Teeg's private study, after we'd raided two coin dealers and confiscated more than a billion in ancient coins from Vogeffa II. That was face value, not resale value.
"I remember these," Ildevar fingered one of the heavy, gold coins. "I recall Vogeffa II in its glory, too, before the polar ice caps melted and reduced the land mass above sea level to a large island. Everything worth anything is buried beneath the water, now."
"Is that where these came from?" I asked. Ildevar, long ago Founder of the Reth Alliance, nodded thoughtfully at my question.
"I believe so."
"Somebody knew where to look?" Lissa asked.
"I certainly hope so," Ildevar replied. "The other options are that the world was visited by treasure-hunting pirates, who would still have to know where to look, or someone, sometime in the past, bent time to go back to the former Vogeffa II."
"Treasure-hunting pirates," Teeg and I said in unison. "Those are the Prophet's people, you can bet on it. This is how he came by the coin spelled to pull Sabrina out of an ASD warehouse."
"You think he bought Gramm and Linn this way—by offering them this treasur
e in exchange for their cooperation, and then taking them in the less than courteous way he has of creating slaves to his will?" Ildevar asked.
"I think that's close enough," I agreed. "Randl says the same—that Rale and Linn belong to the Prophet now, and we have no idea what resources the Prophet can level in our direction as a result."
"You know they have a fleet of ships," Lissa huffed. "All hidden from the powerful with Sirenali bones, and holding legitimate-looking registration, no doubt."
"Plus tons of resources and many comfortable hideouts, criminal employees, paid-off politicians—the list could be endless," Wyatt said.
"I have six CSD ships in low orbit, and another fifteen Regular Campiaan Army ships in a higher orbit around the planet, in case things go wrong in a hurry," Jett said. "Only the CSD and RCA commanders are briefed as to what we could be facing, and all are equipped with poison gas and bomb gear if it's needed. I have other ships farther out, watching for unauthorized vessels approaching Campiaa."
"Then let's hope they're not transported in another way," I said. "I have some of Rylend's warlocks shielding the planet, but I'm concerned they're either already here or have a way to get past that."
"That's a scary thought," Lissa frowned.
"Well, it won't be the first time I've seen it happen, speaking from personal experience," I grumped.
"What do you mean by that?" Jett asked.
"Randl can slide right through my shields if he wants to. He's done it once already."
"You don't think for a minute that Randl," Lissa's feathers were ruffled and she was about to come after me—with words if not with claws.
"No, that's not what I'm saying," I held up a hand. "Face it, the Prophet has unusual talents—nobody can reanimate the dead, but he can. More and more, I believe that the Prophet, like Randl, may have roots in the mutants who inhabited Vogeffa II. The Prophet has shown a connection by his knowledge and possession of those ancient coins."
"You're saying a world that could turn out one mutant with powers we've never seen before could turn out a second one—or more?" Jett didn't sound pleased with my theory.
"I suppose that's possible, although their talents appear to be different for the most part," Merrill agreed after considering my words.
MindMage: BlackWing Pirates, Book 2 Page 26