She yelled for help. “Dad!”
“Yes, Megan, what do you want?”
“My oven’s broken. Can you fix it?”
“Tell you what. Bring it to the kitchen table and we’ll see.”
“K.”
Megan lived with her mom and dad in a village wedged against Peak Mountain in the Blue Ridge range of North Carolina. Their house stood two blocks from the center of town and a block from her father’s—the only—funeral home. It was an old house, with a big turret in front. Megan loved the house—it was like living in a castle.
“Can I have a cookie?” She’d smelled them before she got to the kitchen. Her mom and dad were sitting at the table.
“You should say ‘may I have a cookie,’ not ‘can I’ when you are asking permission,” her mom corrected. Megan’s mother taught English at the local high school and insisted Megan use the English language correctly. Megan thought her mom was cool, but having a teacher mom could be a pain.
“Come sit with us at the table, and I’ll get you a couple of cookies with milk. Your dad and I have something to tell you.” Her mom poured a glass of milk and sat it on the table next to a napkin and two cookies.
Megan handed her dad the oven and door and climbed into a chair.
“Megan, we have some great news!” her dad said. “You’re going to have a baby brother.”
Beijing
The People’s Republic of China
John told Marva about Stony’s disappearance from the Beijing airport.
She ordered him to the U.S. embassy and promised to have a secure comms room waiting. John figured a CIA team would also be waiting, but he was out of options. For once, he didn’t argue.
He moved quickly through the building and out the front exit, cutting in front of the people patiently queued for a taxi. A few protests were barked at the rude American, but he escaped the airport without incident. The thirty-minute ride to the embassy passed in anxious silence.
The cab turned onto Beijing’s An Jia Lou South road, bordering the main entrance to the U.S. compound. John directed the driver to pull up to the white steel gate, where the car was immediately intercepted by a Marine PFC armed with a SIG and a clipboard.
John opened a back window and offered his ID. The guard examined his credentials and referred to the fluttering pages on his clipboard. “We were expecting you, Dr. Benoit.” He returned his ID and shifted his gaze to the street behind them.” Any problems I should be aware of?”
“No. I think I’m clear.”
The Marine nodded and murmured into a lavaliere microphone pinned to his collar. The gate in front of the car slid behind the fence that bordered the eleven-acre compound. He pointed the cabbie to a pull-off about thirty feet beyond the entrance, where a fortyish man in a black suit awaited them.
He dragged his bags from the trunk and turned to meet his host.
“Dr. Benoit, I’m Nate Hale, the Chief U.S. Liaison Officer for the embassy.”
Hale’s face was weathered rawhide, wrinkled by a wide grin that didn’t extend to his eyes. “The ambassador is away, but he contacted me to explain the situation. My orders are to give you every assistance.”
“You Foreign Service or Reserve?”
Hale raised an eyebrow. “Reserve. You’re familiar with embassy ranks?”
“That makes you the CIA Station Chief. It would be your team that forced our run for the airport. The one that was so easy to ditch. And the one that was useless when my colleague was taken.”
Hale stared at him like he was a bomb with an unpredictable trigger. John let the awkward silence settle for several seconds. “Or, to be more precise, it was your team under the command of my esteemed director.”
The Liaison Officer’s countenance hardened into creased stone. “Circumstances change. Can we move on?”
“Of course,” John said. “At least you didn’t wimp out and retreat to the old canard that you were just following orders.”
Hale shrugged. “This way. Director Bentley is eager to speak with you.”
He led John to a windowless room at the top of the eight-floor building. A high-res display perched on one end of an oval conference table. A bright green light on the comms console confirmed a secure connection.
In D.C., Marva looked up from a pile of documents spread across her table. Akina sat to her right.
Why was Akina absent in the last call and present now? What’s changed?
Hale and John sat opposite the display. John pushed his seat back from the edge of the table and stood his cane on the floor in the space between his knees.
“Hello, Director, Akina. “ His hands weaved a gentle rhythm with his cane: balance, release, capture, balance, release …
“It’s a relief to see you safe,” Marva said. “I asked Nate to join us.”
John described his activities, from the early morning call with Marva to the discovery that Stony had gone missing. He omitted Wu De and the meeting he’d set with the Chinese agent for noon the next day in Shenyang.
Marva leaned toward the camera. “No recriminations, John, but it’s past time for you to come home. Give me the contact info you’re withholding. Nate will help you get out safely and go after Stony.”
“Not going to happen that way,” John said. “Your bullshit about shutting us down contributed to Stony’s capture. I’m in this until the end. But I’ll make you a deal. Give me your word you won’t try to cut me out, and I’ll share the info. Otherwise, your CIA lapdog here can take me into custody.” Hale rustled noisily in the seat beside him as John continued to glare at the monitor.
Marva’s face flushed and her voice rose. “You either—”
Akina glanced off-camera and interrupted her boss. “Hold on a minute guys, we’re having a technical problem.” She reached toward the control panel in the center of Marva’s table. The audio cut out and the screen flipped to gray with a floating DTS logo.
Someone came into the room or was already there. Who?
Hale filled the quiet in the conference room. “You’re not being reasonable, agent. Let my—”
John raised his cane and stopped him. “Now is a not a good time for you to talk.” He resumed his cane-balancing ritual.
Even though Marva reported to the Director of National Intelligence and not directly to the President, she was one of the President’s top advisors. That spelled power with a capital “P” in D.C. circles, and few people would be foolhardy enough to interrupt her.
The connection to Washington wasn’t restored for fifteen minutes. When the display popped back to life, the conference room tableau was unchanged, as if nothing unusual had occurred.
Except for body language. Both women projected forced calm, but they leaned forward, their hands folded on the table before them. Marva’s eyes were narrowed, radiating crow’s feet John had not noticed before.
She said, “Agent Hale, please give us the room.”
The CIA officer rose from his seat, muttering “bitch” just loud enough to be picked up by the communications gear. The door swung shut behind him.
The D.C. audio gear transmitted an indistinct voice from somewhere off camera.
Marva glared to her left, shook her head. “No, Mr. Barrett. Bringing John into the loop is my call. Don’t test my patience.”
The President’s National Security Advisor. Using his name wasn’t accidental. Marva just put him on the record.
She returned her focus to John. “Mr. Barrett was making an unscheduled visit to my office at the request of the President. When he was told of our meeting, he interrupted to convey urgent news pertaining to our current situation. What I’m about to tell you is as secure as it gets. Disclosing it would be a national security breach and handled far from the bright lights of a courtroom. I need to hear you say you’re clear on that.”
John acknowledged the warning.
“We’re short on time for a lot of detail,” Marva said. She snorted a short, sarcastic laugh. “Hell, we don’t
have much detail. The DOD recently deployed a crew of sophisticated robots that don’t officially exist to examine the remains of the USS Enterprise’s reactor. Thanks to these … servo-digital ghosts, our military friends are convinced the Enterprise was sabotaged. In a way which can only be explained by the use of magic.”
“You’re thinking Crane, the Chinese?” John asked.
“Impossible to be certain, but yeah. Mr. Barrett delivered a Special Access Executive Order, signed by the President, declaring the Chinese program an existential threat to the United States and authorizing its destruction. By any means necessary.”
“What about Chinese-American relations and shutting us down?” John asked.
“Circumstances change.”
Second time I’ve heard that today.
Marva frowned. “You wanted to stay involved? You got it. But there’s something else you need to know. Mr. Barrett and the President have come to believe that my boss hasn’t been forthcoming with them about our situation.”
“What do they think has been withheld?” John asked.
“Your progress, the involvement of the Chinese. Pretty much everything. Apparently the President knew nothing about the orders I was getting in his name. And it’s clear to me that something else has him deeply concerned, but Mr. Barrett here won’t tell me what it is.”
She’s incredibly pissed. Barrett will learn that’s a bad thing.
“Dish?”
Time to take a chance.
John said, “You want to know what’s going on? The DNI is running a black program just like Crane. Maybe collaborating with the Chinese.”
“That’s not possible.”
“Isn’t it?” John shared Burns’ story about the black U.S. program.
Marva stilled and was quiet for several long minutes. “That would explain the orders to pull you back and why the President was being fed false information. If this is true, someone—the CIA, one of the other security agencies—is way deep into this with the DNI. And the President and I are out of the loop. Christ, what a mess.”
A man’s arm reached into the center of the table and punched a button. The display went dark again.
Bingo. She’s clean.
The connection to D.C. was restored ten minutes later. Barrett had joined Marva and Akina on-camera and nodded at John.
“I’ll be running a coded, eyes-only investigation into this mess,” Marva said. “Your top priority is to locate Crane and close it down. God knows I want you to find Stony, but that can’t be your focus.”
“I understand. I hate it, but I agree.”
“Bring Hale back in the room.” Barrett slipped from the camera’s view.
John retrieved the agent, then disclosed Wu De’s name and the information he’d withheld earlier.
Marva flicked her eyes toward the CIA Station Chief, “Have any of your sources heard anything about Stony’s capture?”
Hale shook his head. “No ma’am. It’s too early.”
“That’s a ‘no.’ Wu De is our best shot. Nate, can you put a team in Shenyang to grab him when he shows tomorrow at noon?”
“Yeah. The team I deployed to Shenyang to intercept John and Stony can get the job done without bringing any attention down on us.”
Do you have a place to take him after we grab him?” John asked.
“There’s a rendition site in Afghanistan standing by.”
“Takes too long. We’ve got to question him in Shenyang.”
“John’s right,” Marva said. “We’ll lose most of a day just taking him down. We can’t afford another one or two to get him out of the country.”
Hale sputtered, “Shenyang is impossible. We have nothing vetted there. Let’s at least bring him back to—”
John cut him off. “No. We’re going to do this in Shenyang and do it quickly. Hell, if you can’t find a temporary safe house, find some isolated countryside.”
“Christ! You guys are crazy. We—”
“Here’s what you’re going to do,” John said. “Your team will kidnap Wu De and transport him to an isolated, abandoned warehouse where I’ll question him. Neither you nor your group will be present for this questioning—your job will be to secure the perimeter.”
Hale squirmed in his seat. “But—”
“Quit interrupting. Once I’ve obtained what I need, you can either bury him or take him to one of your agency’s black sites. I don’t much care which.”
John faced Marva. “We have an embassy office in Shenyang, right?”
“A consulate, yes, with secure comms.”
“Good. We’ll grab Wu at noon. I’ll get to the consulate and call as soon as I finish with him. Make sure consulate security knows we’re coming.”
Hale made one last attempt to forestall the unfolding plan. “Be reasonable, Director. This could blow up into an International—”
Marva shook her head sharply. “These are not reasonable times. From this moment forward, you and your resources are under the command of Dr. Benoit. Any problem with that, or do you need a discussion with the President?”
Hale slumped. “I’ll give you my best.”
Spoken like a man who’s finally figured out which way the wind is blowing.
“Just get me results,” Marva said. “This operation is need-to-know only, Agent Hale. Not a word to anyone. Not your boss, not anyone outside your staff, not the ambassador. No one.”
Hoeryong
The Democratic People’s Republic of Korea
Zhi stood in the Attainment Unit’s observation room, staring through the one-way mirror in rapt attention as Eng prepared to lead three kids in Transition magic.
The previous evening, he and Eng had gone into Hoeryong to enjoy the camaraderie of the dancers at a new lady bar. Between personal visits to the club’s back room, the two had found time to discuss the children’s preparation for magic. He’d convinced Zhi they were ready.
Now Eng sat facing the three girls who would be using magic under his direction. He smiled, his face warm and encouraging. “Let’s begin.” He nodded to the girl on his left.
“I invoke my birthright to the Power granted by Transition. I beseech this Power to grant my request. I honor the requirements of Transition and affirm …”
While she continued, Eng pointed to the girl in the middle, who began:
“I invoke my birthright to the Power granted by Transition. I beseech this Power to grant my request. I …”
While the first two carried forward, he gestured to the girl on the right, the recent arrival from Hanoi. She began:
“I invoke my birthright to the Power granted by …”
And on with the remaining verses, a coordinated symphony.
Eng was certain that he needed only one day to prepare children for the successful use of magic, not the weeks of preparation that Zhi and Rong had thought necessary.
“That I make my request with respect and humility …”
“That my heart is pure …”
The key was to have the children use magic for something that hooked them emotionally, something they desired. In this case, the hook was their fear of Rong Ming, who had terrorized them the night of their attempted escape. The kids believed they were using Transition to punish Ming. They didn’t understand their magic would kill him.
“That my request is worthy …
“That no request like mine has been uttered since time began …”
Zhi had selected three different genes that caused cardiac arrhythmia if they were damaged. The children were going to destroy each of them. Damage to a single gene was dangerous. The destruction of all three would be fatal.
“That this is my own true wish …”
The Conservatory was bathed in the familiar frigid, iridescent lavender glow.
“That I willingly surrender my life if I am found unworthy or my request is found wanting …”
The three moved into the final verses, referring to the cards Eng had provided them for the specific langua
ge.
First the child on the left:
“Hear me: This is directed at Colonel Rong Ming, who has caused children in Program Crane to fear him. Destroy the SCN5A gene in Rong Ming’s cardiac DNA. So thus I beseech.”
Then the child in the middle, the same invocation but aimed at a different gene:
“Hear me: This is directed at Colonel Rong Ming, who has caused children in Program Crane to fear him. Destroy the KCNH2 gene in Rong Ming’s cardiac DNA. So thus I beseech.”
Then the final verse from the Vietnamese girl, targeting the third gene:
“Hear me: This is directed at Colonel Rong Ming, who has caused children in Program Crane to fear him. Destroy the JCNZ5 gene in Rong Ming’s cardiac DNA. So thus I beseech.”
The lavender light winked out without a sound and the children looked around in wonder. Eng dropped to his knees and held out his arms. “You have earned a mighty hug. Captain Rong has been disciplined.” The kids leaped into his grasp, chittering with excitement.
Zhi slumped away from the glass, relieved that the children lived. He looked forward to a call from Comrade Wu relating the sad story of Rong’s sudden death.
He glanced at his watch. His new house guest should have arrived. He hurried across the compound to Security, shivering from the infernal North Korean wind as he climbed the two steps into the sheltering warmth of the building that contained the holding cell.
A day for irony.
He removed his coat and asked the watch captain, “Has our prisoner arrived?”
“Just a few minutes ago, Senior Colonel. The doctor is with her.”
Zhi marched through the twisting corridors and into the space that served as receiving area and jail. Two guards stood at attention outside the room; two more, next to the open door of the cage in the center of the room. The camp physician was bent over a form on the cell’s pallet.
“How is she, Physician Chou?” Zhi asked.
The octogenarian straightened and shook his head. “Unconscious and a bloody mess.”
“Stupid idiots. How is this woman going to tell me anything?”
Chou said, “She was sedated for the trip. That, plus the injuries …”
The Scarlet Crane: Transition Magic Book One (The Transition Magic Series 1) Page 26