Today’s summons arrived via the walkie-talkie Rath had provided to Manny that interfaced with the comm the troll always kept close. The older man had passed on the message from his teacher instructing him to come to this location an hour after it closed. The last rays of sunlight were fading on the horizon, and the lights were all on in the surrounding businesses. The inside was deserted except for a cleaning crew, and Chan exchanged pleasant remarks with them as he led the troll and the Borzoi into the depths of the building.
In the gymnasium, which was large enough for two basketball games side-by-side, his teacher had set up a pair of obstacle courses. One was appropriate to his current size, but the other was much smaller. Max barked in excitement, no doubt registering that the second course was meant for them both. Rath couldn’t contain his own grin at the thought. It had been some time since they’d worked on their skills together, having long ago become proficient enough that only occasional sessions were needed to stay at the top of their game.
On the bleachers at the starting end of the challenges, Professor Charlotte Stanley sat reading a book. A takeout cup with the logo of a nearby coffee shop stood beside her, and on the other side, her oversized black bag. Rath had once heard of a thing called a “bag of holding” which had infinite space inside it, and thought hers might be one of those based on the wide variety of items he’d seen her pull out of it.
Chan led them to the smaller of the two courses. “I’ve done some work on blades for your smallest form.” He gestured to a small case nearby. Rath lifted the lid and discovered six tiny throwing knives, each about the size of a needle. They were held by a thin piece of leather with holes in it for the blades and a loop around the end. He looked up, and the weapons expert nodded. “To attach to Max’s collar. This will at least give you something you can use from a distance while you’re riding him if you find yourself in a situation where you can’t change your size.”
Rath hadn’t worn his miniature gear much of late because he preferred his larger forms whenever he wasn’t with Max. But ideas began to spring to mind about how they might work together in scenarios other than random patrols like they had when trying to capture the pirate for the first time. The memory inspired a frown as he recalled the man’s end at the hands of the mysterious assassin, Amadeo. He shook his head and banished the worry. Can’t do anything now. Later, though. He’s a criminal. I am the law.
Chan helped him to secure the weapon strap onto the dog’s collar, and Rath shrank to the appropriate size and climbed Max’s fur to reach his back. He pushed on the leather to move it to the side so he would have a better draw angle and nodded. The man who now towered above him gestured ahead. “It’s a simple enough course. Weave in and out of the exercise balls, go over the barbells, and through the suspended hoops. When you see a target, hit it. There are six, and they might not be where you expect them to be.”
Rath tightened his grip while Max walked to the starting place indicated by an X in painter’s blue tape on the floor. The dog’s claws clicked against the wood, and he whispered, “Careful. Slippy. Watch footing.” His partner gave a soft chuff of acknowledgment, and his muscles trembled as he prepared to run.
Chan clapped loudly. “Go!” His shout echoed off the walls as Max flowed smoothly into motion. The Borzoi was economical in his movements as he dodged between the exercise balls, which were set up in a slalom. They were the large kind, and Rath couldn’t see over them. When the target appeared on the one to the left, he had only an instant to draw and hurl the slender piece of metal in an awkward cross-body throw. Still, working with Chan had improved his skills enough that the blade pierced the outer ring of the target.
There was no time to celebrate as the dog broke out of the pattern of large spheres and headed at an angle toward the barbells placed about a foot apart from each other. In the center of the arrangement were two targets, one to the left and one to the right, and another suspended at a high diagonal to the right a few feet behind them.
He drew and tossed at the one on the right in a fluid movement, and the knife struck in the middle of the X in the center. Quickly, he shifted position, drew the next, and threw it in the air to catch it in a better throwing angle. The dog leapt at that moment, but Rath focused and whipped his arm forward seconds before his mount’s paws returned to the floor. The blade tumbled as it moved and embedded itself above the target. Drat. He had been watching old movies lately and had taken to using slang words from that era at random moments. Dagnabit.
The next one posed a challenge. The distance was diminishing rapidly as he drew another blade, but the angles were all wrong. He scurried up the dog’s spine, his balance sure on the ever-moving muscles as the Borzoi leapt as gently as he could over the obstructions. When he reached his partner's head, he still needed a little more. “Higher, Max.” The dog obeyed and raised his chin, and Rath threw the weapon before he back-flipped to return to his position. He landed as the wickedly sharp metal sliced through the hanging paper and continued to clatter on the floor beyond it.
He had no attention to spare. Four down, two to go. He saw them ahead, one high and one low on the final hula hoop. The rings were suspended about a foot off the ground and weren’t all that large, which required Max to pull his limbs in as he traveled through them. In turn, that made the ride rockier, and the troll wracked his brain to resolve the puzzle before him. The top one was easy, but he couldn’t see how to aim at the other at all. When the solution came to him, and he grinned at Chan’s cleverness. Got me thinking about partners. Sometimes, partners have to separate. It was a lesson he’d learned quickly at Diana’s side.
Rath drew the final two knives and gripped one in each hand. He sighted on the top target as Max neared them and threw the blade in his left as the dog landed after leaping through a ring. The troll jumped back as the Borzoi hurtled forward, and as soon as the throwing lane was clear, he cast his final blade at the lower target, then touched down on the floor in the standard superhero landing pose with one arm out to his side. He looked up to see the slender shards embedded exactly where they were supposed to be. They had missed the center point, but both would have seriously damaged their intended targets.
He grew to three feet and dashed over to hug Max. “Excellent run. Best partner ever.” The dog wagged his tail and licked his face, causing him to fall on the floor, giggling. When their celebration slowed, Professor Charlotte greeted them with a grin and Chan with a raised eyebrow. The man nodded at the other course, and Rath bounced up to take on his next challenge.
Later, after they’d cleared the courses and locked the community center—where it turned out Chan worked several days per week—Professor Charlotte treated them to drinks at the coffeeshop advertised on her cup. She chose herbal tea, and he opted for lemonade plus a bowl of ice water for Max. Chan’s choice was a surprise, a frothy sweet coffee quite at odds with his general demeanor. His pleasure in the drink made Rath happy, as did his own selection, which had unexpected cherries swimming in the bottom to give it a nice touch of sweetness to balance the sour.
He hadn’t been to this coffeehouse before and thought it looked fairly old-fashioned. When he remarked on it, Professor Charlotte laughed. “It’s Bohemian, really, although it is from the past. But it’s less about a time and more about an attitude.”
Rath nodded. “Messy.”
The others laughed, which was fine, but he hadn’t tried to make a joke. It was about as cluttered with stuff—pillows, especially—as he could imagine a place being. Fabric hung on the walls, and doorways had curtains. A pleasant incense filled the air with an unfamiliar scent. He took a deep sniff and sneezed, which made Max bark, which caused the others to laugh again.
Then, the woman sobered and shook her head. “I’m glad we’re together, Rath, because there’s something I wanted to discuss with you in person, rather than over the walkie-talkie.” He shifted to face her where she sat on the bench beside him. “Honestly, it might be nothing, and I only mention it bec
ause things have been so unsettled here lately.”
He nodded, and Chan touched her arm. “Whatever you’re feeling is valid because you feel it, Charlotte. Just share it.”
She gave him a small smile and looked down again. “Manny and I…well, we’re fairly sure we’re being watched.”
Rath frowned and Max growled under the table. The troll’s longstanding suspicion that the dog sensed his emotions like he did Diana’s—and was affected by them in the same way—raised its head for a moment before being overcome by his immediate worry. “By who?”
She shrugged. “I have absolutely no clue. We’ve cast some simple charms to discover the source, but nothing has come of it.”
“Would they find non-magicals?” He’d thought first of Amadeo, and the idea that the assassin might be hunting the Griffons caused his anger to spike. No one threatens my friends.
There was a pause as she considered the question. He assumed her habit of thinking every single thing through before speaking was part of her job as a teacher. “The ones we’ve used should be able to identify anyone, magical or not, but they’re limited by distance. If we’re being watched from farther away than our spells carry, they wouldn’t manage it.”
Another point that makes Amadeo a possibility. Max growled softly again, and Rath took it as a sign that he needed to quit centering his thoughts on the assassin. He grinned at a new notion. “Have idea. Willing to be cheese?”
She looked confused but Chan laughed. “In the mousetrap, you mean?” The troll nodded, and the woman joined in the mirth.
“Rath, I would happily be the cheese if you have a plan to find out if anyone’s watching us and who they are.”
He grinned. “Oh, definite plan.” He glanced at the dog beneath the table. “Sorry, Max. Gonna need Gwen for this one.” The Borzoi gave a haughty sniff and put his head back between his paws, but the way his tail thumped on the ground told the real tale. Sometimes together, sometimes apart, but always partners.
Chapter Nine
When Hank had rolled the large delivery truck into the parking lot near the headquarters building, Diana had known immediately why he’d told her to look out the fifth-floor windows overlooking it at that exact moment. She’d groaned and headed out to see it.
As promised, it was a climate-controlled vehicle that offered the requisite space to carry the entire team and their gear. He’d already rigged a medical area in the portion nearest the cab, with a table and mechanic’s chests filled with appropriate supplies secured to the walls. Benches ran along both sides, and there was enough headroom that they would be able to sit beneath the lockers he said he planned to install above them. Empty places awaiting weapons racks were closest to the back doors, and a large exit on one side near the front could be used for quick access to casualties or normal egress.
Diana had shaken her head and admitted defeat. “Well done. Don’t break the bank, but if you’re going to do it, do it right.” She’d pretended not to notice the entirely obvious high-fives that Hank exchanged with Cara and Kayleigh. It figures that the blonde brat was involved somehow. She’s a menace.
There hadn't been much time to devote to it since then as he shared surveillance duties on Sarah, who had been unusually mobile over the last couple of days. Worryingly, she and her people had been sighted near both of the city’s sports fields as well as the college fields, the hockey arena, and even a minor league baseball park forty-five minutes to the south.
They’d worked on the assumption that the evening of the simultaneous pop concert and baseball game filling the two stadiums downtown would be the likely date. When Sloan’s phone shifted to transmit mode and they heard the sounds of the gang preparing for an attack that night, it didn’t come as a surprise.
They’d gathered at the base to gear up and her team expressed varying levels of frustration when she’d informed them that stun rifles would be the initial weapon of choice. Anik had been most vocal about the stupidity of trying to knock out people who were attempting to end your life but ultimately, everyone understood the need for a little extra care around the many civilians who would attend the events. It wasn’t every day that one of the biggest names in music sold out a football stadium in Pittsburgh.
Cara had quipped, “And it’s pop music. If we were talking heavy metal, that might be an appropriate soundtrack for the fight.”
Now, they bided their time sitting inside the damned mobile-armory-to-be on a side street a short distance away from the concert venue. They’d arranged to have the police clear the service road that led from one facility to the other so they could drive to the baseball field in less than a minute if they were needed there. Arguments had been made for both and ultimately, the question was decided by a game of rock-paper-scissors between Cara and Tony. The detective had emerged victorious, so they waited nearer the larger building.
Diana hoped his instincts were right, on the one hand, so they’d be in position. But all things considered, the best case would be an attack on whichever place had the fewest civilians to endanger. Or no attack at all, but that won’t happen since we are their real target. Sloan's recording of Sarah’s diatribe had resulted in a consensus that the woman sounded like she was coming unhinged. It’s better if she aims that crazy at us rather than anyone else.
Kayleigh provided an update. She was in the core, as usual, and Deacon was exactly where he always was—surrounded by computers and monitors. “Okay, we have all the traffic cameras and police feeds up. Alfred is monitoring them for trouble. I’m focused on the two stadiums, and Warlock is watching the Arena and the big college fields.”
“Who’s covering the stadium to the south?” Diana asked.
“State police,” Deacon replied. “There is a barracks nearby, so they’re hanging out on site. SWAT is six minutes away if they call.”
“Okay. How about that other thing, Glam?”
Kayleigh sounded smug. “Got ʼem. Every police drone is hacked and ready to receive our orders.”
The many uncertainties around her had revealed a side of Diana that she’d not known was there. Former concerns about respecting the other bureau’s turf fell away, replaced by the need to use any and all available assets to save lives as effectively as possible. If they don’t like it, they can take it up with my boss—who’s also my boyfriend. I think I’m safe, all things considered.
Deacon’s quick-speaking cadence betrayed his excitement. “I have action at the Arena. Two targets are headed toward the back parking lot and they’re looking around like they’re worried about being noticed. Stand by.” There was a pause before two mugshots appeared on her glasses’ display. “Low-lifes but magicals, so concerning. They have been arrested on small stuff before, but nothing stuck. Witnesses have a habit of disappearing before they can testify, apparently.” Feeds from a traffic camera and what had to be a security camera on the facility itself replaced the pictures and showed the pair walking with a purpose.
Hank asked, “What’s that at the back, there?”
Deacon paused, then answered, “TV production truck. They’re doing some kind of special on the hockey team.” Their targets were on a path directly toward it.
“I bet it would blow up really well if someone hit it with a fireball,” Anik commented
That was enough for Diana. “Pick ʼem up.” Kayleigh would already have shared information with the police stationed inside the arena, and they would doubtless sweep the pair up in short order. They’d been cautioned to use stun rifles from a distance and had control of a stun drone to make a first strike with minimal risk. She dismissed the duo from her mind. “So, that’s one distraction down. Where’s the next?”
In the minutes that followed, there were more reports of suspicious activity at all the venues they were watching. Again, the police swept in to mop up what they could while the ARES agents waited. The criminals had a good plan. If not for the insider knowledge, we’d be running around trying to respond to each incident rather than waiting patient
ly for the main strike to happen. She sent a silent thank you to Sloan, wherever he might be at that moment. Fortunately, we’re smarter.
When the first explosion occurred at the baseball stadium, the entire team flinched. Smoke rose into the sky a mile away, and she felt the truck lurch as Hank shoved it into gear and revved the engine in case they needed to move. “Glam, status.”
Kayleigh’s frustration came out in her sharp words. “Stand by. Whatever else they did, they also blew out the electrical system that feeds the internal cameras.” They had logically tapped into the stadium’s video lines but hadn’t anticipated the possibility of them being compromised. Okay, maybe we’re not that much smarter. A moment later, the tech was back. “Drones inbound.”
The ARES drone supply had increased on an almost daily basis since Deacon’s arrival. The techs built two basic models. The first simply slapped a sensor package on top of an out-of-the-box vehicle. They weren’t fast but made up for it by being comparatively cheap and easily assembled. Rath had assisted in distributing charging and docking stations on the rooftops around the city. The drones’ home bases looked like medium-sized black plastic road cases and remained closed except when accepting or discharging one of the aerial vehicles.
The second kind were based on the models the military, police, and AET used and were faster and more agile than the others. Despite her reservations, Kayleigh had armed them with stun weapons. Each carried an internal AI to prevent hacking or unauthorized use and possessed impressive built-in self-destruct technology. The tech was serious about her dislike of weaponized drones and trusted only herself and maybe Duncan with them.
The images from the leading drones slid into her vision as they sailed in from the outfield. One swept in each direction, curving through the walkways that capped the first level of seats and weaving to avoid the lights and signs hanging from the beams they skimmed under. More detonations occurred as they watched and small fires started but in general, it seemed less like magic and more like traditional explosives. That assessment was confirmed moments later when the drones identified several groups who ran and threw canisters to each side at intervals. A stun blast from the craft dropped a handful of them.
Agents of Order Page 6