The Wraith- Welcome Home

by Jeffery H. Haskell

  “Uh, ladies… Bomb?” Bill asked as he put his M4 down next to the truck. I glanced past him and saw the two security team members he brought with him run to the downed Saints to try and revive them.

  “We got time. Uh, Mach? This is going to sound weird, but I don’t think you can convince Seraph that I’m one of the good guys, so please, don’t let her touch me.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “I don’t understand.”

  “That makes two of us. Just please, trust me for now?” He thought about it for a moment then nodded. He walked over to the man trying to revive her and had a private word with him.

  “What’s the plan,” Bill asked.

  “The doors are rigged to blow the bomb if we open them. We’re going to need to cut through the roof and try and disarm it once we're inside,” I told him.

  Krisan gave me a look. “Why don’t you just pop in there the way you do?” she asked.

  “I can’t right now my… my abilities have limitations I’d rather not get into while surrounded by law enforcement, Krisan.” I put enough ice in my voice I hope she took my meaning. For such a smart woman she was sometimes oblivious.

  “I can help with that,” Mach said walking up behind me. He lifted off the ground, wind blowing around him, sending the ends of my scarf snapping around. I reached up and pulled the silky material off my face and let it hang around my neck. I supposed there was no point in protecting my identity.

  He landed on the roof of the tractor and knelt down.

  “Not a big hole, just something I can look through,” I said. Anyone can make a bomb, it isn’t that hard. A highly skilled individual, though, can make a bomb that can’t be defused. I was worried that was what we were dealing with. From all the books Joseph had me read, Emergency Ordinance Disposal usually just blew up bombs with shaped charges or transported them somewhere they could be detonated without hurting anyone. But since the doors were rigged, I had to assume that whoever set this up knew what they were doing.

  I grabbed the lever on the back of the door and hauled myself up, using the door mechanism as handholds until I scrambled over the top. Mach held out a hand and I grabbed it, pulling myself the rest of the way. “Thanks,” I said.

  Once I was up there, he reached down with two fingers and jammed them through the metal. For him it was like pushing through butter. The Wraith made me strong, but not like his ridiculous level of strength. I shook off my awe and knelt down on all fours to press my face to the hole. The shadows inside the trailer faded until I could see almost normally.

  “Well,” I said while looking through the hole, “it’s a bomb.”

  “Can you disarm it?” Bill asked from below.

  I closed my eyes for a second, trying to remember everything I had read about EOD. I looked again. The C4 had hundreds, if not thousands, of wires running through it. Any attempt to cut away the C4 would likely result in contact with one of the wires—which would mean boom.

  All the detonators were pushed deep into the bricks themselves, which meant trying to pull them out would also result in boom. I directed Mach to punch another hole in the roof, closer to the middle. He did. I looked through that one and found the control systems. It was a simple circuit board attached to an MP3 player of some kind and what looked like a mic and an accelerometer. Clever.

  I stood up and went through a dozen scenarios; all of them ended with boom.

  “What’s wrong?” Mach asked.

  “Whoever made this is pretty skilled. If we try to open the doors, sound the evacuation alarm, cut away the C4, or try to move it, the whole thing goes off. I can see the circuit board, but there are also wires I don’t recognize. He could also have it attached to a motion detector, which would mean even going in there to disarm it would result in boom.” Think, Madi. Think!

  “We need to try something,” Mach said.

  “We can’t rely on luck; luck isn’t a plan. We need to know it will work,” I told him. I looked around the room for something…something to inspire me. Something… something… outside the box! “Mach, I have a plan. I need Burn up here, but not Seraph, okay?”

  He turned and lifted off, wind blowing out from him like a helicopter taking off. A few seconds later her returned with Burn, who looked like this was the last place he wanted to be. Fire swirled in the shape of a man—even his clothes were molded out of flame. It was eerie as hell looking at living flame.

  “Sorry about earlier,” I told him.

  He shook his head, running his hands through the flame that was his hair. “It was a good lesson in overconfidence, to be honest. I’m glad you were telling the truth.”

  I wanted to shake his hand if I could have done it without melting my skin. “This is going to sound crazy, but it will work.”

  “What will work?” Mach asked.

  I walked over to the section of the trailer that was above the detonator. “Burn, I assume you can raise your external temperature slowly, right?”

  “I have pretty good control. I can boil water or melt steel. I mean, I can’t go up a degree at a time, but leaps in ten or fifteen degrees is doable,” Burn said.

  “Good. Okay, I need you to slowly raise the temperature inside the trailer until it’s two-thousand degrees,” I said pointing at the hole. I looked up to get confirmation from him that he could do it, but the two men were just staring at me like I was insane.

  “There’s a bomb in there,” Mach said as if I didn’t know.

  “Yes,” I replied. “A bomb I can’t disarm.”

  “Your plan is to blow it up then?” Burn asked. “Doesn’t that defeat the purpose?”

  I shook my head. How to explain to them all the books I read on ordinance disposal, all the hours and hours of videos Joseph made me watch, not to mention the hands on?

  “C4 is very stable; it requires a detonator. Something that explodes at greater than 1.5 megajoules—or 1400 meters per second. Fire or heat alone won’t do it; you could shoot it and it wouldn’t go off. But if one of us so much as sticks a pinkie inside that trailer, this place will look like a crater on the moon.” I checked the time on my phone. An hour to go. This wasn’t going to leave us an option for a plan B.

  Air swirled around me and Seraph landed next to Mach. Her sandaled feet clanged on the roof as she stalked forward. Blood covered her; from her nose in a trail down her chin, neck, and the front of her white robe.

  “You are the spawn of the devil. You’re here to destroy us.” She snapped out her hand and a whip made of light materialized. I was torn about what to do. If I shot her again it would hurt my chances of them listening to me—and a lot of innocent people would die. At the same time, Spice was terrified of her.

  “I don’t know what your beef with me is, princess, but I don’t know you from Adam. Heat destabilizes electronics. Copper melts at two thousand degrees. Once that happens the detonator will be useless. So, all you have to do is—”

  She whipped her hand out and the line of light wrapped around me burning my skin where it touched. I screamed as a pain unlike anything I’d ever felt burned me. Then she pulled. My vision blurred and I could feel her rending my soul in two.

  “Seraph, stop!” Mach ordered her.

  “B—Burn, only… you… can disarm… bomb,” I said through clenched teeth. I was crying, and I don’t cry easy. My knees hit the metal roof and she pulled again. I didn’t move, but something inside me did. Sara was next to me, screaming as she was pulled from me, the whip of light encircled us both.

  It was too much, seeing her in pain, seeing her dying again. I couldn’t do it. I’d see everyone in this building blown to hell before I went through that again. I slammed my foot down and I stood, trying to focus through the pain and burning the whip caused. Mach yelled at Seraph to let me go. Burn moved to the hole, putting his palm over it as he heated up. Good man.

  Through an effort of extreme will I forced my hand to grasp the hi-tech pistol tucked into my waistband. My fingers were numb; I barely felt the thing as I
pulled it out.

  She raised her other hand and a sword of light materialized in.

  “Madi, please,” Spice called from beside me. We were almost completely separate now. She writhed on the ground, only barely connected to me. Seraph ran forward with the sword high above her head.

  Oh no, not again. No!

  I threw myself over Spice, firing the IPP as I fell. The blade struck me dead center in the chest and my world exploded. I hit the metal trailer, rolled and fell off the side only to slam into the concrete. I rolled over with a chuckle. Blackness encroached on me but this time, this time, I saved her.

  I saved you Spice.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  Midnight came. Vaas was sitting in his leather chair, safely hidden in the hotel they owned. The huge picture windows overlooking the city gave him one of the best possible views.

  The assault on the Dome had utterly failed. Most of the men he sent were captured and killed. His one hope was that the building would still explode. He’d paid good money for a detonator that couldn’t be defused. Once set, it would explode… no matter what.

  The clock on his phone ticked over.

  12:01

  No explosion. No mushroom clouds. No screaming. No fire trucks. And no dead heroes.

  How?

  How on Earth did one woman dismantle the most powerful criminal organization in the history of New Orleans in a matter of three days? She’d killed nearly all of his subordinates, seemingly with ease. She knew where everything was. It didn’t matter how secret he thought a place was, she knew. She showed up at the lieutenants meeting, the mansion on the outskirts of the city, the swamp where they exchanged dirty money for clean. Hell, she’d blown it all up.

  And now, at the moment when he should be celebrating, he held a heavy revolver in his hand and contemplated eating it. The Council in Belize would not accept this kind of failure. The only reason they hadn’t killed him already was that the whole thing came down so fast that no one had time to issue the order.

  More time passed; with each minute his hope faded further. Hope that the timer had just delayed, or that maybe his clock was off, or… No, she’d won. Again. Somehow. He hefted the gun in his hand, feeling the weight. Regardless of whether it was by the hand of an assassin or his own, he’d join Peter soon. Somehow, he knew they wouldn’t like their destination.

  The door to the suite swung silently open and soft footsteps made their way to the desk. “Miguel, I told you I didn’t want to be disturbed.” Something heavy and wet slammed down on his desk. He jumped up and spun around, his mouth open. Miguel’s dead eyes stared back at him from his severed head. The remains of the blood leaked out over the desk, soaking the papers in the viscous liquid.

  He looked up, slowly, as if moving suddenly would cause her to strike like a snake.

  “Who are you?” he asked.

  She reached up and pulled the red scarf down from her nose, revealing full lips on an impossibly pretty face. She couldn’t have been more than eighteen. How?

  “Peter told me you ordered the hit on my father, Alexander Dumas. You also murdered my Mother, Nadia, and my little sister, Sara. Yes?”

  Vaas shook his head. This was Madisun Dumas? Henry had assured him she was a worthless piece of trash who wasn’t a threat in any way. They wouldn’t have even bothered with her if she hadn’t called the police. After that they only kept trying because it pissed them off how she managed to slip through their fingers. He thought for sure she’d gone underground, moved to Canada or someplace ISO hadn’t extended their influence yet… then it clicked.

  “It was you in Detroit. Ghost… you killed the Ghost?”

  “Stabbed him through the chest with a combat knife, the way he killed my sister. Now I’m here to kill you Vaas, for what you did to my family.”

  He nodded. He deserved this; he realized that now. She was his divine retribution. All the stories his mother told him as a child about avenging angels… that was what she was. She was the angel of death.

  “Before you die, Vaas, you have a chance to do one good thing in your life. Tell me where the people are who pull your strings.” Vaas shivered as she spoke. The gun in his hand all but forgotten. She was unstoppable. There was nothing that could save him now. He dropped the gun on the desk with a thump and turned around to face the window. He leaned his head against the glass, enjoying the view one last time.

  “Belize City,” Vaas said. “The heads of ISO live in Belize.”

  He closed his eyes and waited. He didn’t have to wait long.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  Saturday morning dawned and Henry rolled over in his bed as the sun came through the big window in his expensive house. The silk sheets rolled off him like water. Sadly, he was alone this morning. He hadn’t gone out; instead he was glued to the TV, watching the drama at the Dome unfold.

  His phone rang and rang all night. The police even sent a uniform over to knock on his door but he pretended not to be home. The farther away he was from this mess the better. Let them think he was out on the town… gone for the weekend. It wasn’t unusual for that to happen.

  ISO hadn’t told him about their operation to blow up the Saints HQ. If they had, he would have told them they were insane. Or at least he would have thought about telling them that.

  After he dressed himself, he made coffee and walked to his office, holding the steaming mug while he read the headlines on his phone. He walked into his office on autopilot, heading for his large leather power chair—and froze.

  The chair swiveled around. Henry dropped his coffee and phone, taking a step back as the steaming hot mug hit the floor. She looked just like the other night, eyes glowing impossibly blue, even in the morning light. She still wore the red scarf around her mouth and nose, obscuring her identity.

  Only t large silver revolver cradled in her lap was new.

  “I told you what you wanted,” he pleaded. “Please don’t kill me.” He resisted the urge to drop to his knees and beg. He was a coward—he knew that now—but he wanted to die with some shred of dignity… if he had to die.

  “Relax Henry,” she said in her eerie voice that bounced around the room, sending his hair standing on end. “I’m not going to kill you.” She stood up, waving him toward the chair as she circled the desk opposite him. When he reached it he sat down.

  She picked his phone up. With her thumb she scanned through it, looking at something he couldn’t see. Then she shut it down and tossed it to him. He caught it, placing it on the desk as it restarted.

  “If you’re not here to kill me, then what are you doing? I don’t have anything else.” Now that she’d stated her intentions, he grew a bit of a spine, puffing up as is if somehow because she said she wouldn’t kill him, she couldn’t.

  Maybe she won’t off a DA? If she’s a “good guy” then that has to count for something.

  “Don’t get up uppity,” she said. She shook her head, letting her hair fall down around her shoulders as she pulled it out of the dreadlock ponytail she kept it in. Then she pulled the scarf down and the light in her eyes dimmed. He knew who she was the moment the blue faded. Once upon a time he’d thought she was the prettiest woman who ever lived. But… she looked as young and pretty as the day they met. Over a year had passed since he saw her last, but she looked better than when they were married in college. Then the shock hit him.

  Madisun is the person who dismantled ISO almost overnight?

  “I bet you’re wondering how, right? How I survived when my family didn’t? It’s a long story, but right now I just have one question for you. Did you know they were going to kill Sara?”

  “Madi—”

  Annoyance flickered across her face. “Don’t call me that, you don’t have the right. Don’t say my name again or I’ll show you the meaning of pain.”

  He nodded, the blood draining from his face as she spoke. It was Madi, his ex-wife, but it wasn’t.

  “Now, answer my question. Did you know they would kill Spi
ce?”

  Had he known? He racked his brain trying to remember the conversation with Vaas. They were going to kill Alex and Nadia unless he could get his mentor to back off from the investigation… but he only had a few minutes to convince him to do so…

  “No, I swear. I didn’t even know either of you were there. I thought she was at a friend’s house. I tried to get you to leave, remember? I tried—I swear I didn’t want this to happen. They’re forcing me. I don’t have a choice, I’m a victim here. You have to believe me!” Henry hated the way he sounded almost as much as he hated the woman in front of him. How had she done this, humiliating him again? It was bad enough she left him after only six months of marriage, but now, here she was making him beg and whimper for his life.

  “Okay Henry, I believe you.” She put the gun away by tucking it in her waistband at her lower back. “I’m glad you didn’t know. I haven’t finished my work here. I still haven’t figured out who the head of ISO-1 is here in the city. When I do, I’m going to kill them dead.”

  Henry nodded. “That’s great, M… uh that’s great. If I can help, let me know. I’m the DA. I can control the police, direct investigations, you name it,” he said. This was starting to turn around. Maybe this whole debacle would turn out well for him after all.

  “Thanks, Henry. I appreciate that. It’s really important they not know who I am, okay? Don’t tell anyone we’ve met. Can I trust you?”

  He nodded emphatically. “Yes, of course. I promise. I don’t even have their number; they call me when they want something.”

  She smiled. “I’m glad you weren’t a part of it. Goodbye Henry, I don’t think we’ll meet again.” She turned and walked out the door.

  Henry leaped up and ran after her, calling her name, but by the time he got to the door she was gone. He searched the house: every room, every closet, the basement, everywhere. She was gone.