The Lost Power: VanOps, Book 1

by Avanti Centrae

  “World War Two?” Maddy asked.

  “Yep. Out in the forest, archeologists recently uncovered a hundred-foot tunnel used by a small handful of Jews, called the “Burning Brigade,” to escape Nazi death pits. This Brigade was forced to unearth and burn bodies to cover up the killing of an estimated hundred thousand people.”

  Heart pained, Maddy looked away.

  “The men dug the tunnel with spoons found on their dead friends and relatives. Only twelve of eighty prisoners survived the escape.” Bear paused, anger radiating from his eyes as he gazed into the past. He took a deep breath and stretched his shoulders. “But I digress--the point is, we face the challenge of time.”

  “That’s depressing. You’re not encouraging me.” Maddy grimaced and put her hands on her hips. “But I appreciate your honesty.”

  Bear shrugged. “Just setting the stage. I think we owe it to ourselves to look, and I think we can focus on buildings that were built before 1500, when Isabella and Ferdinand had access to them. That will narrow our search significantly.”

  “It will still take days. Old Town covers one-point-four square miles.” Her mind’s eye flew to the temples in the south, where her gut still felt they should be. “My sense is we should be in Bagan. And yesterday. With the Russians on our trail, we’re running out of time.”

  Bear waved his hand toward the window. “We do need to hurry, but we’re here. We have to try.”

  “I suppose.” She was tempted to leave the two of them there to spin their wheels in Old Town forever but knew it would be safer to stick together. “Shall we follow the same methodology that worked at the Well of Souls, with me looking low for clues, you looking in the middle, and Will looking high?”

  “Yes, let’s do it.”

  She turned to Will. “Does that work for you, Will?”

  He looked away from the panoramic view and met her eyes. “I guess so.”

  She gave her ponytail a last, irritated tug. “Fine. Let’s go find the needle in the proverbial haystack.”

  CHAPTER 47

  San Francisco, California, July 12, 3:45 p.m.:

  The outburst of laughter poured over AJ like a wave. He was with his foster family at Golden Gate Park, where there was a large comedy festival going on. There were over forty comedians who were going to be on stage throughout the day. His foster parents had brought a blanket, six lawn chairs, a cooler, and his three other foster siblings, none of whom he wanted to play with.

  For a while, he sat in one of the lawn chairs next to his foster mom and tried to pay attention to the comedian, but they were on a stage that was far away, and he didn’t understand what everyone was laughing about.

  After a time, he wandered away from the lawn chairs to watch a group of older boys and girls kick around a soccer ball on a grassy area near a long bed of rose bushes. It looked like a fun game, but since they were all teens, he didn’t ask to play.

  His foster mom waved at him from her lawn chair. “Don’t go far, AJ.”

  He waved back.

  Three girls about his own age were playing with Hula Hoops. One of them smiled at him. “Wanna try?”

  Feeling stupid and happy at the same time, AJ agreed and put the plastic loop around his waist. He tried to swing his hips like the girls but the hoop slid to his ankles. He picked it up and tried it again, with the same result. The girls laughed and he laughed along. On the third try, he got the hang of it and was able to swing it around and around in a mesmerizing rhythm. All the girls clapped in time as he swirled it around his hips. Finished and flushed with success, he stepped out of the hoop, thanked the girl, and handed it back to her. The three girls went back to their game.

  Walking away, a beautiful yellow-and-black-winged butterfly drew him away from the loud crowd, along a sidewalk, and a little way into the bushes.

  He was so focused on the butterfly that it came as a complete shock when a strange hand closed over his mouth and a male voice, in Russian, quietly told him not to scream.

  CHAPTER 48

  Vilnius, Lithuania, July 13, 8:40 p.m.:

  Will tapped his fingers on his leg as he tried to look at the menu. Frustration at the two long, fruitless days they had spent searching for any sort of clue distracted him. Bloody memories of Maria and Hana’s deaths haunted him. Guilt taunted him.

  He was also disturbed that while they hunted, hysteria over the international e-bomb crisis continued to build around them.

  First, the three of them had gone to Old Town and wandered around, checking out the blend of architectural styles while looking for the signum regis or any other sign from their ancestors.

  They followed the meandering streets to the palaces of feudal lords and landlords, to churches, shops, and craftsmen’s workrooms. Narrow, curved streets and intimate courtyards made them feel as if they were going in circles, as the medieval town had been developed in a radial layout.

  Every time they passed the university, in unnerving displays of passion, student protestors carrying “E-bombs are E-vil!” and “Books not Bombs” placards chanted and waved the slogans at them. As he walked past the protestors, he remembered the Dali-esque image of the melted TV from the Chinese broadcasting station and shuddered. Their group’s lack of progress, and that he might be responsible for stopping what the protesters were up in arms about, made his heart pound in his chest in time with the chanting.

  The nuclear mushroom-cloud scenario of WWIII, where Russia attacked America, who attacked back, kept playing in his head like a bad B movie. The flick had an even more disturbing intermission: the still frame of Maria lying on the hardwood floor in a pool of blood.

  As Will, Maddy, and Bear sat in a stylish leather booth for dinner, discouraged and hungry, Will kept one eye peeled for intruders, as was his habit. They were in a trendy, overpriced restaurant on Pilies Street, the lighting dim, the music upbeat. He might be paranoid, but he preferred safe to sorry, so sat with his back to the wall and his face to the door. Bear sat next to him, following the same modus operandi.

  After ordering his dinner, Will handed the menu to the waiter. The waiter walked away. “I think I saw someone following us today.”

  Maddy started to look over her shoulder at the door and stopped herself by grabbing onto her dark ponytail instead. “Why didn’t you say something earlier?”

  “I wasn’t sure and I didn’t want to worry anyone unnecessarily,” Will replied.

  Bear took a drink of water and looked surreptitiously at the door. “The hair on the back of my neck rose for a minute there when we were by the bell tower. When did y’all think someone was watching?”

  Will lowered his voice. “No, it wasn’t there by the cathedral. It was when we were walking by the fountain.”

  “Which fountain?” Bear asked.

  “The one in the square on our way to the Jewish ghetto area.”

  “What’d he look like?”

  “He was white, middle-aged, with wavy brown hair and wore sunglasses. The navy windbreaker looked a little out of place.”

  “Sounds suspicious. I wish the electronic sweeper I bought had shown us how they were following us. Nothin’ showed up in your stuff.”

  Maddy gave Bear a small smile. “Thanks for trying.”

  “I’d been meaning to mention this earlier but--” Bear glanced around to see if anyone was listening. “What do y’all think about gettin’ some weapons?”

  Maddy’s eyes shone with concern. “What are you thinking, Bear?”

  “We’re exposed here. Our hiking staffs and Will’s butter knife aren’t going to do much if they catch up to us. Aikido is awesome for close combat but not so much when someone’s tryin’ to shoot at you.”

  Frowning, Maddy nodded slowly. “True. At least at a distance.”

  Will pantomimed a gun with his hand and pointed it at Bear. “How hard would it be to get them?”

  Bear chewed on an ice cube from his sweet tea. “In every town, there’s a way to get guns. We might even be able to get s
ome 3-D printed ones. I was looking into those before we left stateside.”

  “What advantage would those have?” Will asked.

  “If they’re plastic and not metal, we might be able to get them through an airport scanner.”

  “Sounds risky. Plus, isn’t the technology still not quite there?”

  “Real ones would be better,” Bear agreed.

  “What about shipping an extra set of firearms to Bagan if things don’t pan out here?” Will motioned them to silence as the waiter brought their food.

  “That might work,” Bear said. “We’ll have to research shipping.”

  The waiter deposited their plates and left.

  Will noticed Maddy still wore a frown. He said, “I say we do it. What do you think, Maddy?”

  Her tone was serious. “I think it does sound risky, as I’m guessing we’d have to find a rough neighborhood?”

  Bear nodded. “Right.”

  “And Will and I aren’t exactly crack shots, so this would be for you, right Bear?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  A stubborn look entered Maddy’s eyes. “I think it’s a recipe for disaster.”

  Will wiped his mouth. “C’mon, Maddy. If we’d had weapons back in Jerusalem, Hana might still be alive.”

  “This path won’t bring her back, Will.”

  Will’s food didn’t taste very good. “I know that.”

  They ate in uncomfortable silence. Bear looked from Maddy to Will and back again. No one spoke.

  Bear finished up and put his fork down. “Maddy, do you have a death wish?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Then we need to arm ourselves.”

  Maddy grimaced and sighed. “So, the aikido part of me hates the idea, but I don’t want to die, either. We can cash in a couple of those diamonds that Dad gave us. What neighborhood do you have in mind?”

  Bear sat up straight. “The guidebook said to avoid South Vilnius suburbs, including Naujininkai and Kirtimai, so let’s head to one of them tomorrow around lunch.”

  Will preferred to dodge bad neighborhoods. Would it be worth the chance, or just take things from bad to worse?

  CHAPTER 49

  San Francisco, California, July 13, 9:22 p.m.:

  AJ woke in an unfamiliar place, in a hard bed with a rough blanket and a pillow that smelled of mildew. He had a headache, his stomach hurt, and his mouth was dry and tasted like vomit.

  Recalling the last thing he remembered, which was biting a man’s hand at the park, he realized that this was not his home, and not his foster home, so he kept his breathing even to see what he could learn from his surroundings, or his captor, while they thought he was asleep.

  When he dared to crack open one eye, he saw aged brick walls and a scarred wood floor. The ceiling had open duct work and long, narrow windows with blankets hung as curtains. He guessed it was some sort of old loft or warehouse. Opening his eye made him feel a little dizzy, so he closed it again and rested for a minute.

  Where am I and why? He wanted to go home.

  AJ turned his head slightly to avoid being noticed. He opened his eye again. A blond-haired man, with half his face horribly reddened, sat at an old table.

  Memory came fully back. He remembered trying to bite that man’s hand at the comedy festival before he smelled something sweetish and everything went black. The bandage on the man’s hand gave AJ a small sense of satisfaction, but more than that, he felt like a tiny ant about to be squished.

  He also remembered that this man had shot Maddy’s father and her brother’s wife at the vineyard. That day was horrible! He still had nightmares about lying in the grass and watching that man throw his rifle into the long black car.

  Across the table from the burned blond man was another man. Dark, to the blond man’s light. He had tanned or olive skin and long, jet-black hair that he wore gathered at the back of his neck. Also, the darker man was tall and had broad shoulders. Oddly, where most people’s eyes were the same color, this man had one eye so dark that it looked almost black, and the other eye, where there should have been a color, was white, ringed in a thin circle of black. The white eye reminded AJ of a target. His stomach clenched at the sight, and he wondered if the eye was real, or glass, like a marble.

  The blond man was short for a grown-up and a little thin. He was playing with a knife the size of his hand, turning it end-over-end with his fingers. The two men were drinking a clear liquid out of tiny glasses that they poured from a tall bottle. AJ squinted a bit to look more closely at the red marks on the blond man’s face.

  They looked like burn marks, like what AJ had on his right hand from touching the stove when he was little, before the skin healed into a scar. AJ wondered how the man had burned his face--the wound looked fresh, angry, and painful.

  This was a bad, bad situation. He closed his eye again and fought tears. What would Maddy do? He thought long and hard for a few moments and then figured that she’d try to listen, learn, and find a way to escape. Crying would definitely not help, it would only give away that he was awake, and he wouldn’t learn a thing.

  AJ cracked his eye open and tried to listen. The men were arguing in Russian. Russian, one of the languages of AJ’s birthplace in Ukraine before he and his family had come to America. The men were close enough that he could hear what they were saying.

  The darker man waved his hand. “You gave him too much of the drug, Ivan. Are you an idiot?”

  “No, you didn’t tell me how much to give him. I put some on the handkerchief and had him inhale.”

  The dark man’s tone was angry. “I hope for your sake he’s not dead. I checked his pulse a time ago and it was running wild.”

  The burned Russian, Ivan, sounded defensive. He twirled the knife hilt in his right hand. “He’s not dead, he’s breathing.”

  AJ realized they were talking about him. A drug! That’s why his mouth tasted awful.

  “He’d better not be, or you’ll be in trouble. The baron will cut your balls off.”

  Ivan took a drink from one of the tiny glasses. “Fine, let them find another sniper.”

  “You’ll need to find another son if it works out that way.”

  “It won’t. The kid is just sleeping it off.”

  The dark-haired man looked at his watch. “It’s been over twenty-four hours.”

  “Pyotr. Have some more vodka. If he’s not awake in the morning, we’ll call in a doctor.”

  Pyotr crossed his arms on the table. “I call the shots here. If he’s not awake by midnight, we call.”

  Ivan made a disgusted face. “Fine.” Then he put his left arm flat on the table, took his knife, and deliberately cut his forearm. A thin line of red appeared.

  Pyotr sat back in his chair. “What the hell are you doing?”

  Ivan repeated the cut in the same place. Blood oozed. “Marking my last kills.”

  “You’re a crazy bastard.”

  “I have my reasons.”

  Pyotr shook his head from side to side. “Sure, you do.” He paused and looked in AJ’s direction.

  AJ shut his open eye. Then, ever so slightly, peeked again.

  Pyotr pointed at Ivan’s hand. “Looks like your little freckle-faced pet bit you.”

  Ivan laughed. “He did, but if somebody tried to kidnap me, I’d bite them, too.”

  Pyotr still sounded angry. “Are you defending him?”

  “Yes, I think he’s got some spunk. I like that.”

  “Madonna, help me. You’re too nice to him already. Gave him a blanket. Bought him some kid food for when he wakes up. Ice cream. Unbelievable. What if we get orders to kill him?”

  AJ shuddered, fear spiking through him like a fever. His eye was riveted to the blood on Ivan’s arm. He was cold and hugged the blanket closer to him for warmth and comfort.

  Ivan cut himself again next to the first spot. “Right now, we have orders to keep him alive.”

  “Da, this is true,” Pyotr said.

  “So, I gave
him a blanket and some food to keep him alive. Following orders. I’m just a sniper, not trained to work with dark arts like you are.”

  Pyotr’s smile held ice and his white eye gleamed. “My skills scare you, eh?”

  “Who wouldn’t be? I heard you began training when you were younger than him.” Ivan nodded in AJ’s direction.

  “Not your business. Let it be to make sure you and your pretty face stay safe, eh?”

  “I will. I just hope it’s all worth it in the end.”

  Pyotr raised his eyebrow above the odd white eye. “You don’t want to see Mother Russia take down America, our great enemy?”

  Ivan deepened the second cut. “Sure, I do, but how practical is this plan to take out three of their early warning radar systems with e-bombs? Don’t they have redundancy with satellites?”

  “Da, the satellites are already handled. You are not in the need to know on that.”

  “How will it work then?”

  “If we can find enough superconductive material to fuel the three bombs, we have men in place who can deliver them close enough to take out their upgraded early warning systems.”

  “Then what happens?”

  “Then we deploy nukes into the atmosphere over the country.”

  “The atmosphere?”

  “Yes. Nukes in the sky disable electronics--weapons, phones, power grid, all of it--and within days, New York to Los Angeles will be vulnerable to attack!” Pyotr smiled broadly.

  “Americans without their cell phones? They’ll be doomed.”

  Pyotr drank. “They’ve been so distracted with ISIS and the terrorist threats that they’ve ignored us.”

  “They will regret it. Where are the three early warning systems located?”

  “What do you care? Your job is babysitting!”

  “Back off. I’m curious. This is a major victory waiting to happen. I’m sure I could look the locations up online, so just tell me.” Ivan poured more of the drink into their glasses and then poured some liquid from the bottle onto his wounds.