by Simon Hawke
“No!” screamed Kira.
As Silver came out of the elevator, he suddenly found himself face-to-face with Billy Slade. He raised his arm to hurl a bolt of thaumaturgic force at him, but Billy’s eyes strobed with a blaze of bright blue fire and twin bolts of energy lanced out from his pupils, striking Silver in the chest and knocking him backward. Billy followed with another burst of force, but then Angelo came out of the elevator, arm raised, a vacant look on his face, a 9-mm semiautomatic in his fist. His first two shots missed, but the third struck Billy in the shoulder. Before he could fire a fourth time, Kira was on top of him. She leapt and brought him down, wrestling with him for the gun, and then the heavy stairway door exploded off its hinges and the S.W.A.T. team came pouring through into the penthouse suite.
They were exhausted from fighting their way up the final flight of stairs. They had double-timed it all the way to the top floor and broken through the stairwell doorway leading to the penthouse only to hit the spell ward at the final flight of steps. Suddenly it was as if they had run into a solid wall of invisible molasses. They piled up against each other, trying to force their way through, but it was like trying to run underwater. Knowing that officers had already gone in and »ere in need of backup, they had bulled their way through by sheer weight of numbers, but it had taken almost every ounce of energy they had left, and when they blew the door and forced their way into the penthouse, they were completely unprepared for what awaited them. They suddenly found themselves faced with a knight in full armor, complete with shield and broadsword.
The first two S.W.A.T. men through the door were involuntarily brought up short by the amazing sight, and their fellow officers behind them ran right into them. It caused a up, and as the disoriented officers scrambled to their feet, armored knight hit them full tilt, shield first. Like a bulldozer, he plowed them back through the open doorway, forcing them back into their fellow officers and pushing them back down the stairs. They went down like dominoes. Nobody had to get a shot off, nor was there an opportunity to do so without hitting their own men. They tumbled backward down the stairs, going down much faster than they had come up, and when they realized the knight had retreated, they attempted to regroup, but found the stairs beneath them suddenly coated with a thick layer of ice. As they struggled to find their footing, they kept falling back into each other and going down in a jumble once again.
Billy came back into the penthouse. Kira was lying on the floor, trying to get up. There was no sign of the other two men. The elevator doors were closed. He rushed over to Kira and helped her to her feet.
“Are you all right?”
“I think so… I got his gun, but he nailed me with a shot to the jaw and…oh, God! Modred!”
They hurried to where Modred lay on his back… only it wasn’t Modred anymore. He was Wyrdrune once again, younger, unbearded, with longer hair… and badly hurt. His chest was burned and blackened, the shirt cooked right into the flesh. He was unconscious and his breathing was ragged and shallow.
Kira stared at him, aghast. “Is he… ?”
“He’s still alive,” said Billy, crouching by him, “but just barely. We’ve got to get him out of here. Those S.W.A.T. cops won’t be held back for long.”
“What are we going to do?”
“We’ll have to teleport. Quick, get Broom and Archimedes.”
Several shots shattered the sliding-glass door as Kira went across the room. She dove onto the floor and rolled.
“Christ! They’ve got sharpshooters on the roof across the street!”
“Kiii-raaaah…”
There was a clunking sound as the little computer fell over on its side, its monitor screen and casing smashed by the rifle slugs.
“Archimedes!” she cried.
“Forget it, it’s too late!” shouted Billy. “Broom! Where the hell are you?”
Kira crawled back across the floor toward Billy. “Can you teleport all of us?” she asked.
“Merlin could have,” Billy said. “No reason why I shouldn’t be able to.”
“You mean you’re not sure?”
He shook his head. “No, but we don’t have any other choice. Wyrdrune needs help and we’re caught right in the middle of a hornet’s nest. We’ve got to get out of here right now. Broom! Where the hell is that bloody stick?”
“Probably hiding,” Kira said. “I’ll go look—”
“There’s no time,” said Billy. “We’ve got to go now.”
“Wait! Shadow!”
“Forget the bloody cat! There’s no damn time!”
“I’m not leaving without—”
Machine-gun fire stitched the wall behind them as the S.W.A.T. cops managed to struggle back up the icy stairs. They burst into the penthouse suite, firing as they came, then stopped abruptly, looking all around them. There was no one left inside
Deputy Police Commissioner Steve McGuire stood in the center of the penthouse living room, looking around at all the damage. All around him, the lab boys were bustling about with their equipment, dusting for prints, bagging evidence, and taking photographs. “What the hell happened here?” McGuire said, turning back toward Ron Gavorachek, captain of the S.W.A.T. team.
“It was a B.O.T. operation, sir,” Gavorachek replied, looking at McGuire uneasily. He knew that tone, and it did not bode well.
“Bullshit,” said McGuire. “It was an N.Y.P.D. operation, complete with S.W.A.T. team, choppers, sharpshooters, and a whole goddamn division. Why the hell didn’t my office know anything about it?”
“Sir, I was told that Chief Morgan gave his authority—”
“Where is Chief Morgan?”
“I’m told he’s on his way, sir,” Gavorachek replied. “He’s supposed to be coming with a Bureau representative—”
“Right,” said McGuire, impatiently interrupting him. “Meanwhile, you still haven’t answered my question, Captain. What happened here?”
“Bureau Agents Silver and Whelen were in charge of the operation, sir,” Gavorachek replied. “They had reason to believe a fugitive adept named Michael Cornwall and several of his confederates were holed up in this penthouse—”
“Nobody ‘holes up’ in a penthouse,” McGuire said wryly.
“Uh… yeah, well…”
“Go on.”
“The building was surrounded and sharpshooters were stationed on the nearby rooftops,” Gavorachek continued. “My team was to go in first and take the stairs. Agents Silver and Whelen went up in the elevator with a plainclothes officer disguised as a pizza delivery guy—”
“What plainclothes officer?”
“Detective Angelo, sir. He was an undercover guy the Bureau agents brought in. The whole operation was put together very quickly. They requisitioned units left and right. Chief Morgan gave them—”
“Gave them his authority, yes, I know,” McGuire said impatiently. He waved him on. “Get on with it.”
“Right. Well, my men took the stairs, but we ran into a spell on the last flight up, just before we reached the penthouse.”
“What sort of spell?”
“I don’t know, exactly,” Gavorachek replied. “There was something slowing them down, making them struggle for every step they took, but it was nothing they could see. And then there was the knight—”
“The what?”
“The knight,” Gavorachek said. “Guy all dressed in armor, with a shield and a sword—”
“You’re kidding.”
“No, sir. He charged my men and pushed them back down the stairs—”
“One man did this? Armed only with a sword?”
“Well, he had the advantage of surprise, sir. And the stairs had turned to ice—”
“Ice.”
“Yes, sir. My men had a hard time getting their footing. And by the time they got back up here, well, they were gone.”
“Who was gone?”
“The knight, the girl—”
“What girl?”
“There was a girl, sir,
and at least one other male, both young, my men didn’t really get a good look at them. There may have been others present, I’m not sure. I figure they must have teleported. There was no other way out. When the elevator came back down, both Agents Silver and Whelen were on it, dead. Detective Angelo was still alive, but he was unconscious. He was taken to the hospital. I haven’t heard any word on his condition.” Gavorachek looked past him. “Oh, there’s Chief Morgan, sir.”
McGuire turned around to greet the chief. “Ed,” he said.
“Hello, Steve,” said Morgan. He indicated the man beside him. “This is Agent Case, he’s the new head of the Bureau office in the city.”
“We’ve met,” McGuire said with a curt nod at the Bureau man. “We’ve got a problem here,” he continued. “The media’s all over us about this, and we don’t know what the hell to tell them. The commissioner wants me to give him something yesterday, so he can make a statement, but so far, all I’ve got is a massive police raid, six city blocks cordoned off, shots fired, two dead Bureau agents, and a goddamn knight in shining armor, right out of King Arthur. If you think I’m going to the press with that, you’re nuts.”
“Why don’t you let us worry about a statement to the press?” said Case. “Tell the commissioner to refer them to me and I’ll take care of it. It’s nothing you need to concern yourself about.”
McGuire stared at him. “That’s it?” he said. “That’s all you’re going to give me?”
Case stared at him steadily. “For the moment.”
“Well, I’m afraid that’s not good enough, Agent Case. Who’s this guy, Cornwall?”
“A renegade adept the Bureau has been after for a long time. The I.T.C. has a special interest in this matter. This case is international in scope, but it’s somewhat sensitive. We don’t need a lot of publicity.”
“Well, your people should have thought of that before they staged one of the largest police raids in the city’s history,” McGuire said. “That sort of thing tends to attract attention. Especially when it fails so spectacularly.”
Case nodded. “Yes, well, it seems that Agents Silver and Whelen somewhat exceeded their authority in this instance.”
“Is that so?” said McGuire.
“Apparently, Agent Silver took it on his own authority to obtain the warrant from Judge Chambliss, and he went directly to Chief Morgan without checking with his superiors, first.”
“Meaning you,” McGuire said.
“Meaning me.”
“So you’re saying you didn’t know anything about it,” said McGuire.
“That’s correct.”
“And now both Silver and Whelen are dead,” McGuire said. “Makes things rather convenient for you, doesn’t it?”
“Take it easy, Steve,” Chief Morgan cautioned him.
“That’s all right, Chief,” said Case.
“Like hell it’s all right,” McGuire said. “It stinks.”
“Steve…” said Morgan uneasily. “You’re out of line here.”
“It’s quite all right, Chief,” said Agent Case in an even tone. “The deputy commissioner is right. It does stink, and I fully appreciate his position. Unfortunately, there’s not very much I can do about it now. Fortunately, on the other hand, we do not have to effect a great deal of damage control. A raid took place, it failed; two Bureau agents are dead and one police officer is in the hospital. Some people in the area were inconvenienced. It could have been much worse. My office will take care of any statements to the media. If the commissioner feels it necessary to make his own statement to the press, he can merely say the department was extending its cooperation to the Bureau, at our request, in an attempt to apprehend some fugitives wanted for felony magic crime. And he can then refer them to me for any details.”
“Which you will fudge,” McGuire said.
“Of course. But the department will be off the hook.”
“Yeah? Tell that to the guy in the hospital.”
“Regrettable,” said Case. “But at least he’s still alive. I’ve got two men who are dead.” He glanced around at the activity in the penthouse. “When your people are finished here, I would appreciate a copy of the full report.”
“You don’t want to have your own people in here?”
“I’m sure your lab people are quite competent,” said Case. “I’ll be satisfied to see their report. And I would appreciate it if you would forward whatever evidence you may collect to my office. There’s no need for you to burden yourself with an additional investigation.”
“There’s a lot you’re not telling me, Case,” McGuire said.
“I don’t like it. I don’t like when the Bureau comes along and tells the department to look the other way and mind our own business. If it impacts on our city, it is our business.”
“Duly noted,” Case replied. “I’m sorry about your man. I hope he recovers. Chief…” The Bureau man nodded to Morgan, then turned and left the premises.
“That’s it, huh?” said McGuire. “Thank you very much, turn over everything you find and stay the hell out of it. Just like that.”
“Steve, don’t rock the boat,” Chief Morgan said. “It’s the Bureau, for chrissake.”
“Fuck the lousy Bureau,” said McGuire with a scowl.
“We’re dealing with adepts here, Steve,” said Morgan. “We don’t want the headache. We’re not qualified. Leave the adepts to the adepts.”
McGuire sighed heavily. “I suppose you’re right,” he said. “I guess I just don’t like being pushed around.”
“They’re not the bad guys, Steve,” said Morgan. “They’re just worried about the public perception. Magic crime can be a nasty business, especially when the media gets hold of it. That’s why the Bureau plays it close to the vest.”
“Playing it close to the vest with the media is one thing,” said McGuire. “Doing it with the commissioner’s office is another.”
“We’ve had leaks in the past, you know,” Morgan reminded him.
McGuire pursed his lips thoughtfully and nodded. “Yeah. I guess I see your point. But I still don’t like it. I haven’t been on the streets in a long time, Ed, and my ass is getting fat from sitting on it, but my nose still works and it’s telling me that something is all wrong here.”
“Like what?”
“Like why didn’t he want to bring his own investigative team in? The Bureau trusting our lab boys to come up with everything? That would be a first.”
“It’s probably just politics,” said Morgan. “His people screwed up. He doesn’t want to ruffle our feathers any more than he has to.”
“Maybe,” said McGuire. “But I think whatever he wanted here, he already got it. He wasn’t exactly dragging his heels getting out of here. I think I’d like to have one of our own special forensics people in here.”
“Steve… if you’ll take my advice, you’ll leave it alone,” said Morgan.
McGuire smiled at him. “Duly noted,” he said.
Morgan grimaced and shook his head. “You’re never going to get the old man’s job unless you learn how to play ball.”
“I can only think about one job at a time, Ed,” McGuire replied. “And right now, somebody’s telling me how to do mine and getting on my nerves.”
“Screw you, McGuire,” Morgan said with a wry grimace. “Don’t take my advice. I was a cop in this town when you were still getting potty trained, but what the hell do I know? Do what you have to do. Just keep me out of it, okay? I don’t need any turf battles with the Bureau. I’m only six months from my pension.”
“Sure thing, Ed. It’s my decision; I’ll take whatever heat comes down.”
“The Bureau can generate an awful lot of heat,” said the older man.
“Well, you know what they say. If you can’t take the heat…”
“Yeah, yeah. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“My best to Gloria, Ed.”
Morgan grunted. “Thanks. I’ll pass it on.” He turned and headed for the ele
vator.
McGuire beckoned to one of the investigators. “Get on the horn and get the Gypsy down here, right away.”
“Yes, sir.”
McGuire looked around, wrinkling his nose as if there were a bad odor in the air. “Okay, Case,” he mumbled to himself. “I’ll see your adept and raise you one psychic.”
“Where the hell are we?” Kira asked, looking around at the unfamiliar surroundings.
“Sebastian’s,” Billy said. “It was the only place I could think of in a hurry.”
They had materialized in the living room of a third-floor walk-up above a bar in the Village, near the corner of MacDougal and Fourth Street, within view of Washington Square Park. The apartment was not very large, but high ceilings gave it the illusion of greater space. Still, what space there was had been crammed full, mostly with books. Almost every inch of wall space was taken up with bookshelves, and in addition to the books, the shelves held all manner of strange bric-a-brac. There were small, fantastic sculptures made of bronze and pewter; various magical amulets and talismans; tarot decks and incense burners; brass and glass votive candle holders; various small black iron caldrons and ceremonial daggers; tobacco humidors and pipe stands; strangely shaped polyhedral dice and curious, little ceramic pots filled with herbs and powders… The whole resembled a cross between an antiquarian bookshop and an occult notions shop. Books spilled out of the shelves onto the carpeted floor, where they were piled in precarious stacks in the corners and underneath the coffee and end tables and just about anywhere else there was any room.
Kira had never been to the home of Dr. Sebastian Makepeace before, though Billy obviously had. The eccentric New York University professor was one of the few who shared their secret and knew all about the runestones. Makepeace was not in, so they carried Wyrdrune to the sofa, an old Queen Anne that had been battered into submission and covered with tobacco burns and beverage stains. He was still unconscious and breathing raggedly. Billy started carefully removing his shirt.
“Oh, my God,” said Kira as she saw how badly he was burned. “Is he going to be all right?”