Orders of Magnitude (The Genie and the Engineer Series Book 2)

by Glenn Michaels

  “‘Great. I love this plan! I’m excited it could work! Let’s DO IT!’” he grumbled, quoting Dr. Peter Venkman of Ghostbusters.

  Using a magic spell, Paul lowered the unconscious form of John to the asphalt and then dissolved the avatar spell. Uncle Sam, too, disappeared.

  Reaching over to touch the concrete steps of the portico in front of the Observatory, Paul created a portal leading to the W Elm Street Bridge over the Fox River in McHenry, Illinois. This was essentially in a southeastern direction from the Observatory leading toward the greater Chicago metropolitan area.

  “How are we going to rescue Dad?” pleaded Capie, nervously rubbing her hands together. When they stepped through the portal, the rush of traffic over the bridge assaulted their ears, and the putrid smell of the trash and damp ground wrinkled their noses. With a touch of the concrete column in front of him, Paul opened up yet another portal, this one taking them to the corner of Mill and Main streets in Wauconda, Illinois. On one corner was the Bulldog’s Restaurant.

  “Why are we here?” Capie asked him with a stony expression on her face.

  “You are absolutely correct. We need a plan, dear,” Paul said as he held open the door. “We can’t just go charging off to the University of Chicago hospital. It’ll get us both killed. And your father too. In fact, we really shouldn’t have gone charging off to Yerkes Observatory like we did. If we’d gotten there five minutes earlier, we’d likely be dead right now.”

  Capie hung her head, absorbing this information. “I’m sorry, but my father means a lot to me. If you don’t want to help—”

  “We need a plan, dear. And while we are planning, let’s grab a quick bite to eat—”

  “I’m not hungry,” she declared stubbornly. “And this will take too long.”

  “Not in this place,” Paul said. “Come, I need your imagination and your brainpower. I want to save your father and we need a good plan to do that.”

  She reluctantly nodded and walked in.

  They took a small table in the back corner of the place. A young, fairly pretty girl took their order. Well, Paul’s order. Capie only wanted a glass of ice water.

  “Uncle Sam?” Paul asked, as the waitress left. The tall tactician materialized in the seat next to him and gave a brief nod.

  “Capie, we will need Tia too, please.”

  “Fine.” With a sullen wave of Capie’s hand, the Queen of the Fairies appeared, in the seat across from Uncle Sam.

  “Now,” Paul said, leaning forward, forming a steeple with his hands. “We need a plan of attack.”

  • • • •

  “It might just work,” admitted Juan Mendoza as he leaned back in his chair, rubbing the stubble on his chin while he studied the Bernard A. Mitchell Hospital floor plans in the holographic display in front of him. “If you can find the smoke bombs.”

  “And the airsoft guns, man,” added Neal, seated next to him.

  “Most sporting goods stores have some decent guns,” Matt Hutchens said with an affirmative nod. “And you can get smoke bombs in fireworks stores over in Indiana.”

  Juan was now shaking his head slightly. “Even with the guns, amigo, you gotta keep your distance. Your amulets against their talismans…you gotta do the mongoose dance.”

  “That means duck and avoid,” Neal explained.

  The impromptu planning session had grown, now including the waitress Chloe, the cook Neal and two hastily called friends, Juan and Matt. The latter two were airsoft enthusiasts, considered to be something of local experts on tactics and equipment. Another pretty girl, Kyra, Matt’s girlfriend, had tagged along. All of them looked like kids to Paul, either high school students or college freshmen.

  Paul grinned. It had started innocently enough, when Chloe had brought back his burger, fries and drinks, then asking if Tia or Uncle Sam had wanted anything. Capie had responded with a curt sarcastic retort that both were magical holograms and not real people and therefore didn’t need to either eat or drink.

  The situation had snowballed from there, practically developing a life of its own. They might have looked like kids but all of these young adults had sharp minds and had quickly accepted the reality of magical powers and, more important, the dire situation that Capie’s father was in. More than that, they interacted with Tia and Uncle Sam on a near instinctual level, adding valuable suggestive and creative ideas. Paul was highly impressed and wondered if maybe they wouldn’t make better wizards than he himself. It was something to contemplate in the future.

  “You should have the element of surprise,” Matt said. “The professor’s stroke hasn’t been in the news yet so they don’t know that you know.”

  “And,” Kyra said, smiling and looking at Capie, “they don’t know that you are a wizard too.”

  “They don’t even know that she isn’t in a wheelchair anymore,” Neal pointed out.

  Paul checked his watch again. Although the interchange had been extremely productive, it had also consumed more than an hour and a half of their time. If their plan had any chance of success, they needed to get moving.

  “I can’t tell you how much this has helped,” Paul confided with a grin. “Many thanks to all your suggestions. And this plan.”

  Even Tia smiled. “Yes, you’ve given us some excellent ideas. They will be of tremendous help.”

  Kyra giggled and the others beamed proudly. “We wish we could go with you.”

  Capie smiled and shook her head sadly. “You have a different path to follow. Paul, we need to go. We have a lot of shopping to do and not much time.”

  Paul took out his wallet and counted out several hundred dollar bills.

  “Hey, dude, the cash ain’t necessary,” said Juan, with a scowl. “This was sweet. Too bad we can’t tell anyone, cause they wouldn’t believe us, but I’ve had the time of my life here.”

  Matt nodded in total agreement. “We hope you succeed.”

  “Yes,” Chloe concurred. “Stop the wars. Bring us world peace, please, before it’s too late.”

  “We’ll do the best we can,” Paul agreed, shoving the money their way. “This is easy for me to replace. Please, take it.” With a wave of his hand, Uncle Sam faded out of sight. Capie did the same with Tia.

  With another wave, a portal opened up a few feet from the food counter. All of the locals grinned at each other like kids on Christmas morning.

  “Oh, and the burger was excellent,” Paul added with a small smile. “Thanks!”

  • • • •

  It took several more portal hops to the south-southeast in the growing summer darkness before they reached an electrical test equipment supply store in Downers Grove, Illinois, which was on the verge of closing for the day. In less than five minutes, Paul and Capie were the owners of two Fluke VT04A Visual Thermometers.

  From the alley next to the store, they portaled to a Best Buy in the town of Lombard, Illinois. There they purchased a pair of Motorola MR355R radio transceivers and headsets. That particular model came with iVOX capability and would let them communicate in “hands-free” mode.

  Only two blocks away, they dropped in on a large sporting goods center. In that store, they quickly selected and purchased a fairly lengthy list of airsoft supplies and two canvas backpacks.

  In an empty aisle, they portaled out of the sports store and made their way to a safety supply center also conveniently located in Lombard. Although it made a nice little dent in their available financing, they purchased two bright blue Level A hazmat suits and two gas masks.

  More portals took them eastward, following bridges and overpasses on Interstates 395 and 80 to the Indiana state line. They no longer tried to keep their portal hops short or low-powered. Paul’s logic said that all the Oni and any possible wizards in the area would now be gathered at the hospital in southern Chicago, preparing their ambush for himself and Capie there. In the interest of time, therefore, Paul felt the risk of speed was justified.

  In Hammond, Indiana, they quickly visited four firew
orks stores, buying up all the smoke bombs they could lay their hands on. Fireworks were pretty much illegal in Illinois, but Indiana state laws were far more lenient. It didn’t hurt that all the stores had been stocking up in preparation for the approaching July 4th holiday.

  Another shorter portal leap took them to Calumet Park, right on the bank of Lake Michigan. There, Paul took out several items from the shopping bags they had picked up at the sporting goods store and laid them out on an invisible magical table underneath a nearby street light. There were four airsoft guns: two A&K Masada, MAGPUL ACR airsoft rifles and two KWA Heckler & Koch HK45 GBB pistols inside four overly large cardboard boxes. In addition, the four smaller shopping bags held an assortment of accessories and airsoft BBs.

  “The salesman said the Masada has a range of over 150 feet,” Paul babbled rapidly as his hands flew across the equipment. “But I can probably increase that some, with a magical spell to boost the barrel pressure—”

  “That’s nice dear,” Capie intoned, with a glance heavenward for moral support.

  “And it has a collapsible stock, sling, and extra magazines! It can fire 15 rounds a second!” Paul prattled away eagerly. “And it has an Eotech holographic sight! How cool is all that?”

  “Dear, four guns! You’re armed for a small war!”

  “One of these rifles and a pistol is for you—”

  “And I told you in the store that I don’t know how to shoot a gun!” she declared grimly, as she turned her head away from him.

  Paul picked up a pistol. “Just pretend it’s a phaser. Flip the safety switch here and then aim and squeeze the trigger,” Paul said, pointing out the hardware involved. “It doesn’t have very much recoil nor does it make very much noise.”

  “Is this really necessary to save Dad?”

  “Yes, it is,” Paul replied candidly.

  His wife sighed. “Fine. Can I try it here?”

  “By all means,” Paul replied, handing the gun over.

  Capie took it firmly in both hands, flipped the switch off and pointed it at a nearby garbage can. Squinting her eyes and turning her head sideways, the gun shaking in her hand, she pulled the trigger. There was a soft phuft and a clicking noise and the airsoft BB missed the garbage can by more than two feet.

  She looked a little embarrassed. “I was expecting more noise than that.”

  “Try again.”

  She aimed again and, much more confidently this time, pulled the trigger. The BB hit dead center of the can. With a smile, she quickly fired five more times.

  “That’s fun, actually!” she declared.

  “So, help me load the ammunition now,” Paul said adroitly. “We need to scoop out the center of each BB and replace it with a drop of deuterium enriched water. At that point, this airsoft gun combined with our magic spells to create fusion inside the BBs, will be the equivalent of a grenade launcher, sort of like the M79 but this will be self-loading. The pistols will be semi-automatic and the rifles will be fully automatic.”

  Capie eyed the bag of airsoft BBs prudently. “And you can control the size of each fusion explosion, right?”

  “Yep. Anything from a firecracker up to a stick of dynamite. And that’s per BB,” her husband replied with a smirk. “After we load the BBs, I want to teach you how to trigger fusion on a BB you’ve fired.”

  “Do we really have time for that?” Capie asked, a very sour look on her face. “I only made a B in physics in high school. By the way, I didn’t know I was marrying a gung-ho troglodyte.”

  Wisely, Paul left her last comment alone. “If Jaret could catch on to isotopes, you can learn this, I promise. And I can create visual aids to help too, don’t forget. We will need some water from Lake Michigan, filtering it for deuterium atoms. So, let’s get started…”

  FOUR

  South Cottage Grove Ave.

  Chicago, IL

  June

  Monday 8:45 p.m. CDT

  Just a few miles south of downtown Chicago, there stood a non-descript, red brick, two-story building not far from the University of Chicago. Inside the brightly lit interior of a gray painted hallway, an oval shaped portal materialized, and Paul and Capie stepped through. Both of them were wearing their blue Level A hazmat suits with their gasmasks on top of their heads and the hoods folded back, but with the gloves stored in a pouch hanging on one hip.

  “Gosh, this suit is hot!” Capie complained. “And this backpack with all the smoke bombs in it is really heavy!” She glanced around nervously. “I don’t see anyone. Are you sure that there are people here?”

  “Just a small maintenance crew,” Paul replied, as he tried the doorknob on a hallway door. “According to the internet, the switching gear we need access to is inside this room.” He opened the door and nodded for her to follow him.

  Inside, there were banks of 19 inch electrical racks, all filled with assorted equipment and wiring. Stepping over to one such panel, Paul quickly began punching buttons and throwing switches. Then he grabbed a small corded headset with a boom mike that was hanging from a nearby hook and put it on.

  With a small cough, his voice changed, going much higher in pitch.

  “Chicago Fire Department, this is the 911 call center. We have an emergency condition at the Bernard A. Mitchell Hospital at the University of Chicago Medical Center. Repeat, an emergency situation has developed. Possible hazardous chemical spill and it sounds very serious. We recommend a four alarm fire response. Repeat, a four alarm fire response, possible hazardous chemicals involved, the Bernard A. Mitchell Hospital.”

  Capie smiled and shook her head. “You got a kick out of doing that, didn’t you?”

  Paul shrugged, “Remember, that was Chloe’s suggestion, to clear out the hospital and get the patients out of harm’s way.” Paul pushed another series of buttons. “Chicago Police Dispatch, this is the 911 call center. We have an emergency situation at the Bernard A. Mitchell Hospital at the University of Chicago Medical Center. Possible terrorist attack in progress. Shots fired. At least one officer down. SWAT team response recommended. Repeat, possible terrorist attack in progress. Shots fired. One officer down, possibly others. Bernard A. Mitchell Hospital.”

  With more flips of the switches, Paul took the headset off.

  “There. I’ve disabled the switchboard links to the 911 center. It’ll take the phone people a few minutes, at least, to find and fix the problem. In the meantime, all sorts of emergency vehicles will soon be converging on the hospital.”

  “Shouldn’t we put on our radios now?” his wife asked.

  “Yes, let’s.” With a spell, they each activated the units attached to their waists under the suits and slipped on the headsets underneath the gas masks.

  “Communications check,” Capie said, her voice automatically activating the iVOX channel. Her voice came through loud and clear in Paul’s earpiece.

  “You are five by five,” he said with a grim smile. “Now, remember the plan. If you see an Oni, avoid it at all cost! I have the tantalum block, which is stronger than your gold band. And I have more magical experience. I will go after the Oni we need. Your job is to help clear the Normals out of the building. Capisci?”

  Capie sighed and looked downward. “Capisco. But please be careful and don’t take any unnecessary chances, okay? I want you back in one piece. Alright?

  Paul grinned. “I promise. But it’s time to go now. I want to catch a ride on the back of Engine 47 as it goes past.”

  A portal took them outside to the street. In the distance, they could already hear the sound of a siren growing louder.

  As Engine 47 rounded their corner, Paul and Capie levitated into the air and chased after the vehicle, grabbing the stainless steel rails on the rear and pulling themselves in close. Despite herself, Capie appeared to be enjoying the bumpy ride as the huge red vehicle hurtled down the center of the four lane road.

  Holding tight with one hand, Paul slipped the gas mask fully over his face with the other.

  Theirs was
the second fire engine to arrive on scene at the Bernard A. Mitchell Hospital, less than a minute behind Engine 84. As Engine 47 slowed to maneuver through the parked cars on the street, both Paul and Capie jumped off and started running for the building’s front glass doors. Paul tugged the gloves from his hip pouch, putting them on as well, then pulled the hood over his head, fastening it in place with a small spell. He saw Capie doing the same thing and nodded at her.

  As he marched through both the outer and inner glass doors, Paul also activated the link to the speaker mounted on the chest plate of his hazmat suit. This would allow him to communicate through the gas mask and hood.

  Behind him, in the street, two police squad cars screeched to a halt, their sirens winding down.

  Capie and he were barely through the doors when a fireman stepped in front of them.

  “Sir, I’m sorry, but the two of you can’t come through here—”

  In Paul’s ears, the man’s voice sounded tinny, like the speaker at a drive through fast food joint.

  From her hip pocket, Capie took out her Fluke Visual Thermometer, held it forth and swung it from side to side.

  “Trace amounts of toxins!” she barked through the speaker on the front of her suit. “No pathogens, but definite traces of nerve agents!”

  In one gloved hand, Paul held out a badge, one that he had magically fabricated back in the Bulldog’s Restaurant from a plastic and waxed-paper soft drink container.

  “Homeland Security!” he snarled, “Bio-warfare Division! Where’s your captain!?”

  The lobby of the hospital was in a complete uproar. There were patients and visitors scattered along the walls, looking around in complete bewilderment. Several firemen were in the center of the room wearing SCBA gear and carrying axes. There was an ongoing scream session at the front counter with two nurses doing their best to tell two firemen that there were no alarms and no reports of chemical or hazardous spills in the building.

  The Bernard A. Mitchell hospital had been built in the early 1980’s and as such, predated AutoCAD generated drawings. However, there had been building upgrades over the years and, using his magical powers, Paul had found digital files on the internet showing the building’s ventilation system. Mentally concentrating and uttering a spell, he snapped forth a series of small portals, scattering triggered smoke bombs inside of the main ventilation shafts on both the first and second floors on the near end of the hospital. It shouldn’t take long…