Agents of Order

by T. R. Cameron

  The arrow slowed, then stopped pointing to the large “E” on the compass. She walked around the condo with the object in her hand, but the indication didn’t change. Sheen was currently to the east. It would be a simple matter to triangulate her exact location when needed. She grinned and spoke to the empty space. “Now I have you, and you won’t get away again.”

  She retrieved her wand from where it had fallen between two cushions and waved it in a large circle to activate the protective wards that permeated the walls, windows, ceiling, and floor. The remaining trace of noise from the city subsided, and the unreality of the space unnerved her a little, as it always did. The necklace had signaled her true superior’s desire for communication for about half an hour, but once she’d started the activation of the compass, she had to either complete it or lose the power of the source material to track her foe.

  The witch leaned back, put her fingers on the jewelry, and was mentally transported to a different place. This time, it seemed to be a living room. Her virtual body was locked and stood rigidly in the center, unable to move. The black-clad witch who’d summoned her sat in a chair near a flickering fireplace and idly casting spurts of flame into the wood from her wand. She didn’t look up as she spoke. “Report.”

  “Dreven failed. The woman still lives.”

  Iressa gave a snort, followed by a slow laugh. “Of course she does. Dreven is an idiot. Did she manage to kill him?”

  Sarah tried instinctively to shake her head, but it refused to budge. Only her mouth worked, it seemed. “No, he appears to be unharmed. He said that she killed several of his assistants, however.”

  The witch sighed. “Well, that’s something at least. What are your plans now?”

  She wasn’t sure if the woman was referring to plans for Sheen, for Marcus, or for Dreven, so she covered all the possibilities. “I have devised a way to track Sheen. We will isolate her and kill her. As far as Marcus is concerned, as long as Dreven is still around I cannot act against the half-man without risking my superior’s displeasure.” She injected sarcasm into the final words and coaxed a small smile from her patron.

  “And, finally, I await your instructions where Dreven is concerned. You have only to tell me what you wish, and it will be done.”

  Iressa nodded. “Very good. Matters seem well in hand. Let us discuss your plan to eliminate the vexing woman who constantly interferes with our plans.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Kayleigh frowned at the playback of the witch’s words. Alfred had alerted her to the recording in real-time, but she hadn’t been able to break free of the conference call with the techs at ARES DC. They were working on new drone models that would offer greater flexibility in combat situations, and she was committed to ensuring proper safeguards at every step of the process. Whether they like it or not. It’s good having Emerson’s support, even though he’s not part of this particular project.

  As usual, only Sarah’s side of the conversation had been recorded. The team was divided on the reason. Half believed it was something to do with passive wards placed around the condo, and the other half assumed that he simply spoke into her mind with magic. The tech didn’t particularly care. Neither argument precluded the need to get more intel.

  The previous day had been spent with Deacon on a quick road trip to the nearby city of Youngstown, about halfway between Pittsburgh and Cleveland. Diana had let them borrow her Mustang, and between the music and the speed, it had been a great way to release tension. She’d been surprised when he’d led her into a small magic shop—the human misdirection type—but it made sense to hide real magic under the cover of skill in illusion. The proprietor was a tall, thin man with a goatee who was as enthusiastic as could be about the magic kits and items for sale in the front of the shop. She remembered the details of the visit fondly.

  When her colleague provided the code word and they entered the rear of the building, the illusion fell away to reveal the elf’s pointed ears and more finely sculpted cheekbones. He’d explained that he had been born on Earth but had been one of the first to return to the magical planet when the opportunity had presented itself. His thirst for knowledge had driven him to make connections with anyone who could provide information. That inevitably led to trades of items, rather than merely concepts, and he had become an in-demand black market supplier on both worlds.

  His voice was joyful and filled with self-deprecating humor. “Yep, we close here on Mondays through Wednesdays so I can spend time at my other shop. It’s busy, but it’s a living.” The rear room was a luxurious space with two dark leather-and-wood couches facing one another over a low ebony coffee table. Every wall was filled with cabinets containing items that she mostly couldn’t recognize. The elf, Santith, gestured them to one couch and he sat on the other. He waved an arm and one of the cabinet doors opened to reveal itself as a refrigerator. Three bottles of Great Lakes beer floated into their waiting hands, and a second gesture popped the tops and rocketed the caps into a corner wastebasket. He leaned back and took a long sip, then sighed. “What can I do for you two?”

  Deacon was their spokesperson for the trip. “I got your name from a mutual acquaintance. She said that you would have access to hybrid magic tech.”

  Santith nodded. “Indeed, I do, and she warned me you would come, so we can both be reassured of the loyalty of our friend.”

  He grinned. “Perfect. Did she tell you what I am looking for?”

  The elf stretched a hand out and a thin case soared across the room to land in his grasp. He set the wooden box on the table, and Kayleigh was struck by how much it resembled a silverware container, only not quite as large. He released the latch and folded it open to reveal several items that looked like small locusts.

  Her partner leaned forward with an eager, “Sweeeet,” and held one of them up to the light. Having ruined their negotiating position with his enthusiasm, he agreed to the elf’s price, which wasn’t all that exorbitant—an arm and part of a leg, at most. They’d brought a few items that Diana and Cara had snagged on their various adventures and closed the deal with a top-up of actual cash—in a briefcase and everything. She couldn’t help but smile at the corny reality.

  They’d parted with promises of future collaboration, and the objects now sat on the corner of the worktable before her. She’d keep one for deep analysis and deconstruction, which Deacon had promised to assist with. The rest would somehow go into Sarah’s fancy living space. Exactly how to accomplish that was still an open question. The only surety was that it would involve Rath, and she smiled as the troll bounded into the room, followed by his loyal mount, Max. With a soft bark, the dog stretched beside her and demanded petting, which she provided and received several wet licks in return. The three-foot bundle of trouble vaulted onto her table and sat cross-legged near the wall.

  She grinned. “Hi, Rath.”

  He returned the smile. “Hi, Kayleigh. Long time no see.” They both laughed as they’d had breakfast together only a few hours before. It was one of many standing roommate-related jokes they shared.

  Deacon joined them for a moment to ensure the troll understood how the bugs worked. He repeated the instructions he’d been given, and the other tech gave him a high five before departing back to his computer setup. Now, it was up to her and Rath to decide the way forward. “So, did you do some recon?”

  He nodded. “Flew over with Gwen while the witch was away.” Sloan kept them all apprised of her movements whenever he could. “Mapped the building services. Air vents are best option.” The ages-old trope of people clambering through ductwork had been their inspiration for that particular possibility, even though they all knew it wasn’t really possible. A troll, however, could make the passage by shrinking if the space grew too small.

  Kayleigh had concerns. “What if there are magical wards?”

  “Danger is my middle name.” Rath shrugged.

  She groaned and shook her head. “Okay, if you say so, International Troll of Mystery.” He
laughed, clearly unconcerned about the task ahead, so she pushed her own anxiety aside. “Do you think you’ll be able to do the whole thing at this size?”

  “Maybe. But will shrink if necessary.”

  “But that changes the equipment I can send you in with.” He nodded, and she drummed her fingers on the table, then sighed. “Okay, let’s see what we can come up with. There’s no time like the present, right?”

  They’d received the signal that Sarah was spending the evening at the warehouse, working with the witches and wizards on some future operation. Sloan wasn’t able to share more than that because the humans weren’t part of it. After Diana’s mercifully short disappearance, the entire team was on edge about the prospective plans of the Remembrance, Rath triply so. The troll gave a soft sigh. Which is why I need to get these planted so we know what the evil witch is up to.

  He was perched on top of the building with the surveillance equipment, waiting for night to descend fully. The city lights below precluded real darkness, but he wasn’t about to jeopardize the mission by leaping over the street, only to become a spectacle triggered by an errant glance upward. Gwen chimed in his ear when it was time, and he launched himself forward and snapped his glide wings out. They carried him across to the other building in silence, and he landed carefully, pulled up to slow his velocity, and touched down with barely a slide. He removed all his gear, bundled it together, and secured it with a magnet to the side of the air vent. All that remained was a small but powerful drill with multiple tips attached to the strap of leather he would carry or drag through the ductwork.

  It was quick work to use the tool to remove the exterior grate, and he peered in to confirm a drop that ran the full height of the structure to allow return air to escape. He’d reviewed the plans with Gwen a dozen times while he waited and knew he would have to exit the shaft two levels down, then crawl halfway around the building before he would have access to the witch’s apartment. He was without communication on this run, as he needed to be bigger than the smallest comms but prepared to grow smaller than the regular ones. Kayleigh had offered to make a custom version in a middle size, but neither had welcomed the delay and he was on his own. Noble loner troll infiltrates the enemy stronghold. Action movie music played in a quiet corner of his mind as he worked.

  He retrieved the line he’d pooled beside the vent and attached its carabiner to the magnet, then threw the rest of the rope into the shaft. A weight at the bottom kept it from flapping too much in the breeze. Rath took one more look around, shrank to about two feet, caught the strap holding the drone bugs and his screwdriver-drill combo, and climbed onto the lip of the vent. He made himself even smaller, secured the leather around his waist for the descent, and lowered himself hand over hand to the target level.

  Here, the line moved with the air currents, and he had to swing to the far side and push off to lock his fingers into the grate separating the horizontal section of ductwork from the vertical one. He hooked his legs around the line and used his free hand to retrieve the tool and remove three screws that held the barrier in place. The troll loosened the fourth almost completely, and the whole thing fell out of the way and swung gently from its remaining fastener. He scrambled out of the shaft, breathing heavily from the exertion required to clear the grate and avoid falling at the same time.

  He grinned. Daredevil troll has thwarted the initial defense. But will he be strong enough to overcome the long run? The thoughts came in a movie narrator’s voice and combined with the music, inspired a chuckle as he moved as quickly as caution allowed. They’d all agreed that silence was important as he’d move through other apartments and common spaces on the way to the witch’s condo. Any noise might result in discovery, which would be awkward at best and potentially fatal at worst.

  Finally, he turned the corner that marked the far end of the building. Only another half to go, but it’s the long half. They hadn’t been fortunate with the placement of the air vent as it was more or less exactly opposite the target. He left marks in the dust as he trudged along, the airflow in this portion of the path not strong enough to overcome the weight of all the debris inside it. The movies always make this look clean. Ewww. I’ll need two showers when this is over.

  He counted and looked through the grates into the apartments as he passed until finally, he reached the one that led to the witch’s living room, which he recognized from the surveillance video. He slowly and carefully removed three of the four fasteners and pushed it out of the way enough that he could squeeze through. Now comes the hard part. The troll slid a hand into his tiny belt and withdrew the hand and foot grips Kayleigh had devised for the mission. They’d agreed that the witch stood a better chance of noticing the intrusion the further into her active space he went and decided to address the challenge by keeping him up high.

  He’d requested web-shooters, but the tech hadn’t been able to accomplish that in the allotted time either. Still, when he moved out onto the wall, the way the gloves and shoes allowed him to crawl along them was exactly like one of the superheroes he idolized. Spider-troll, Spider-troll. Does whatever a…uh… Always in control. Crawls on walls, deposits bugs. Gets away, gets some hugs. Look out… He laughed at himself again as he secured one of the little surveillance devices and crept along the top of the wall to the small kitchen.

  A half-hour later, he had placed one of the devices everywhere except in the bedroom. When he discovered the closet, he knew the bug had to go there and hid it up at the top corner and furthest away from the overhead light on the clothing side of the room. He felt a sense of danger from the magical items arrayed on the far side, an almost palpable menace that filled the small space and made him want to gag. He retraced his steps into the vent and gave the apartment a final scrutiny after he’d secured the grate in place.

  Okay, witch. Your secrets are now ours. Spider-troll out.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Sloan’s new phone was an upgrade, an android device that appeared low-end despite being packed with all kinds of useful stuff inside. Tommy Ketchum really is moving up in the world. First a beater car, now a phone that a teenager would be embarrassed to be seen with. He shook his head and wished yet again that for once, he could have an undercover gig that required him to be a wealthy playboy. Bond always seems to manage it.

  The text came from a number associated with a political action committee that the ARES team had spoofed. If asked, he had a great story about how he’d been trying to date one of the graduate students who canvassed door to door but had failed miserably. The others in the Remembrance group enjoyed hearing the tales that ended with Tommy losing.

  What it really signified was far more interesting, however. It was Kayleigh’s code name, which would only mean one of two things. If followed with any use of the word urgent, the contact meant he should disconnect from his cover immediately using an exit strategy they’d created at the start. The message lacked that, so it had to be the other option.

  In simple terms, he had a present waiting for him at a dead drop. It didn’t specify where, which was a second layer to the tradecraft. He’d have to make a circuit of them until a particular piece of graffiti appeared at one of the designated locations. The old tricks were the best tricks, even if they’d already been used in countless television shows and movies. Hell, that makes them even better since they’d be discounted on that basis more often than not.

  He climbed into his beat-up Nissan Sentra—which was older than some of the previously imagined phone-rejecting teenagers—and turned the key. His faith was once again validated as the engine came to life without complaint. Hank had managed a surreptitious visit to where Sloan had left the vehicle in a parking garage and given it a once-over, leaving a pine air freshener behind as a sign of his intervention. Since then, the passenger door had broken and steadfastly refused to close, and he’d replaced it from a junkyard. The car was now mostly rust-brown with one dented white door. It was his goal to mix and match on the assumption that it playe
d well with his cover.

  Sloan pulled the sim chip out of his phone and powered the device down, then pushed on the accelerator and drove to the seedier side of the strip district, home to strip clubs and places of much more illicit activity. One of the drops was actually at the nicest of the clubs, but no marker was present, so he continued his journey. The next was in the alley beside a small Vietnamese restaurant that he adored, but that one lacked a sign as well. With a sigh, he wrenched the wheel to the left and headed to the bridge leading to the highway that ran north of the river.

  The next two locations were also unmarked, so only one possibility remained. He pulled into the Zoo parking lot, made his way through the gates, and paid for a single visit. Rath had suggested this location as it was one of his favorite places in the city. Sloan wandered to the Red Panda enclosure and looked through the glass at the frolicking creatures who never failed to bring a smile. He sauntered up the hill toward the elephants and saw the marker ahead at the turn leading to the giraffe exhibit. With a confused expression on his face, he paused and retraced his steps, checking for tails, but he was confident that he would have seen anyone following him by now.

  He entered the savannah restaurant and visited the restroom, selecting the stall furthest from the door. Touching his disguised ARES watch to the wall caused a hidden panel to slip aside, revealing a space about the size of a shoebox. In it lay a capsule and a tube that looked like a straw with a button on it. He retrieved the items and the small disc that rested under them, then sealed everything again and left the building.

  It didn’t take long to separate one of the guests seated in the food court area from their cell phone, although he’d had to pass several candidates before locating an Apple device. He activated the flashlight, which didn’t require a password, and held it up to the disc. The object drew power from the specific frequency of the light, and a message scrolled across it in miniature glowing letters. Subject always shielded outside. Hit with tracker inside. He scowled as the words repeated, then crushed the tiny disc between his fingertips. Shoot the paranoid witch in front of a ton of potential witnesses. Awesome. Thanks, y’all. He deposited the phone with its owner—and asked her and her friend for directions to the otters to distract her from his subterfuge—and returned to the parking lot.