by TR Cameron
“Sure.”
The atmosphere in the warehouse was charged with uncertainty. The different factions gathered in their own areas, as usual—the magicals clustered in one large group to the right of the entrance and the humans in separate huddles on the left. It kind of represents the situation well. The magicals have it all together and we are divided and confused. Sloan laughed inwardly. Confusion to our enemies and all that, so I guess it’s a good thing. It doesn’t feel good from this position, though. He followed a step behind Murray as the big man circulated among the humans, shook hands, and talked in a low voice. Occasionally, he darted a distrustful glance at the wizards and witches.
Sloan’s talent gave him nothing from the magicals, but he sensed a great deal from the other side of the room. Fear, mainly, but also resentment. Surprisingly, more than one seemed to have bad feelings about their former leader, although that might have been emotionally mixed up with the current situation. He didn’t get the full mind-reading impact of his magic, only the general sense, so he couldn’t be sure. Wherever the truth of that might lie, it boded well for Murray stepping into the primary role as he looked to have the trust of most of the people on the left side of the room.
Everyone present turned as the crazy witch in charge made her typical entrance and slammed the office door after she stepped through it onto the metal staircase. Her boots rang with each step, and Sarah stopped halfway down, exactly as Vincente had been wont to do before her. The agent tuned out her opening words and focused instead on Murray’s response. The man was rigid, clearly caught between his desire for authority and the fear they all had in one degree or another of the woman who’d vanished into a portal and returned changed, at best, and irreparably broken at worst. He returned to the moment when Murray and several men moved forward and the man in black gestured for him to join them.
Reluctantly, he trailed the other four up the stairs and his sense of foreboding grew with each step that brought them closer to the office. In all too short a time, they were inside the room and stood awkwardly while she sat behind the desk and put her feet on it. The idea of attacking her right then, of ending it all, flitted through his mind but he pushed it away. Tommy Ketchum wouldn’t have such thoughts. He’s a good soldier if a little slow. He forced a neutral look onto his face and waited.
The witch pointed at Mur. “Sit, Murray.” He complied, and she stared at him for a few seconds in silence before she nodded. “The humans need someone to follow. I see no reason why it can’t be you. Even though you were close to our dearly departed half-man Marcus, I won’t hold that against you.” Her tone was gleeful when she referred to the demise of their former leader. “Will you pledge your loyalty to me and to this organization?”
Mur straightened and nodded. “I will.”
She clapped and thumped her feet on the floor as she sat up. “Excellent. So. Now that we have a chain of command in place, I have a task for you and your people.” She gestured with her wand and an aerial view of the city appeared and hovered over the desk. The perspective zoomed from the center to a building on the outskirts, which was highlighted with a yellow tint. “This place is of great interest. We discovered its presence when we raided the police station. They didn’t know that we also had a magical who is good with electronics, and she accessed their computer records. It turns out there is a holding facility here in our city where evidence is kept awaiting state and federal trials. Items of power that rightfully belong to us are doubtless in that building .”
Bloody hell. Another one? He’d managed to avoid taking part in the action at the police station by faking drunkenness. It hadn’t earned him any points and in fact, Murray had sat him down and given him a talking to about it, but it had kept him out of his teammates’ way. He was sure he wouldn’t be able to pull the same trick again without being discovered and killed.
Mur nodded. “Timetable?”
She gestured airily. “At your discretion, but within a week.”
“Will you give us magical support?”
Sarah scowled. “After the failure of the last attempt to steal artifacts, I believe the witches and wizards need additional training before they venture out again.” It was the closest she’d ever come to criticizing the magicals who worked for her, and he wondered if it was merely an excuse to send the humans out alone. “So no, it will only be your people.” She leaned forward and pointed a finger at their new leader. “And there’s one other thing, and this is paramount. We must keep the details of the operation strictly between those of us in this room. Somewhere, there is a leak in the organization. I have looked carefully at each one of you and cleared you of suspicion. Do not share anything until the last minute, and even then, only share that an operation exists, never what or where it is.” She settled into her chair again. “This must go well, and we must keep it a secret.”
Sloan’s moment of panic at the mention of a leak had passed by the time she finished speaking and dismissed them. He walked down the stairs and out of the warehouse in a haze, and his mind was still spinning when Mur dropped him off at his car. When the large man had driven away, he cruised slowly through the city with one hand on the wheel and scant focus on the road. Between hasty glances to make sure his driving remained acceptable, he composed a message on a hidden chat app to Kayleigh to alert her to the upcoming raid. It sent and was electronically shredded into nothingness. He kept the app open all the way home and glanced at it every ten seconds to see if there was a reply, knowing there likely wouldn’t be one anytime soon.
He was surprised when it arrived as he parked outside his apartment. It was short, simple, and unsatisfying. Do Nothing. D.
So, a message directly from the boss giving me no useful information whatsoever. He sighed, unlocked the front door, and looked around at the shabby furniture. I swear to heaven I will get an undercover gig as a posh playboy one of these days or die trying.
Chapter Seventeen
Kayleigh smacked her palms on the worktable in agitation, and her boss raised an eyebrow at her. “Really, don’t hold back.”
The tech reclined in her chair and folded her arms. “He has to come out. Now. The danger is ridiculous, and we made it worse by trying to bug the place.” The guilt the other woman felt was clearly a driving factor in her zeal to get Sloan out of his assignment with the Remembrance. The fact that she’s personally involved doesn’t really change the validity of her argument, though. And to imagine that we’re all not personally involved is probably naïve, too.
She sighed. “There are bigger issues at hand, and you know it. These bastards are planning something big, and he may be our only way to discover what’s going on.”
Deacon stepped into the lab and joined them, standing at the edge of the table she and Kayleigh were seated at to create a triangle rather than an oppositional team. His voice was soft and understanding. “We have several competing priorities here and no clear means to choose between them because the stakes are so high. Arguing about it won’t help.” He tapped the table corner to activate its display function and used a finger to write on it. “Our first concern is Sloan’s safety. The second concern is intelligence on the group. How about we start with that?”
Diana nodded, impressed at the way he’d defused the situation. Kayleigh was right, he was a good addition. The blonde tech spoke in a slightly less aggressive tone. “I get that we need to know what they’re up to as long as they’re still relevant. But why don’t we simply go in, destroy them, and render them irrelevant?”
She shrugged. “It’s the classic espionage problem. They’ve been able to pull in new members seemingly at will, which suggests they have a network in operation. If we cut off the head—the only visible part—the body still remains. The only option is to continue to thin them out until they have to throw all their resources into the fight. Then, we can eliminate them.”
The blonde tech growled, “There’s no way to be sure that’s true.”
Her lab partner placed a hand on he
r arm, and her shoulders sagged a little.
“There’s no way to be sure it’s not true, and the penalty for being wrong is severe,” Diana replied, sighed, and shook her head. “We need to pull Cara and Tony in for this discussion. She’s being hunted like I am, and losing our insider could have consequences for her. And Tony is probably the only one of us who’s worked most often with undercover agents. Friday, are Cara and Tony around?”
Her AI spoke through the room’s speakers. “They both have status set to available. Neither is currently on site.”
She nodded. “Have them meet us soonest at Stan’s.” She turned to the others. “Let’s go hash this out once and for all.”
Diana and Bryant had discovered the hole-in-the-wall tavern during one of his visits to the city. The front section held a long bar with Pittsburgh-related paraphernalia decorating the wall behind it. The back room contained wobbly tables and chairs with ripped vinyl. Despite the shabbiness, the barbecue was to die for and during normal meal hours, there was no way to get a table. This late in the evening and after the early, main, and late dinner crowds had come and gone, the establishment claimed not to serve food but still did as long as there was some left and only to customers who knew about it.
The owner was behind the bar and recognized her as she walked in. “Diana, it’s been a while. What’s shakin’?” Several of the universally male and predominantly western-styled patrons turned to look at her, but she didn’t recognize any of them.
“Nada, Stan man. Came in for a bite and some privacy. There will be five of us.”
He grinned and nodded. “The back’s all yours. Go ahead and put the rope up.”
She led the way to the rear and obediently hooked the piece of rope that sealed the back section with a “closed” sign hanging from it. The others pushed two tables together and Duncan shoved a wad of folded napkins under one of the feet to keep it from wobbling. They sat and a bucket of beer bottles appeared. It was a sign of how fantastic the food was that Diana was willing to frequent a place that didn’t believe in draft beer. Stan had explained that the costs were too high because his drinking crowd was irregular and tended toward whiskey. She’d shaken her head in despair, but when he provided them with an assortment of craft bottles, her mood had improved. Today’s selection was equally as good, and she snatched the nearest IPA, popped the top with the opener attached to the bucket, and took a sip.
The others did the same, and they talked about the situation with the oversight committee while they waited. The techs continued to run surveillance, and while the amount of information had diminished somewhat, it hadn’t stopped altogether. They both thought there was still something worth digging for, so they continued to do so. Cara and Tony arrived within a minute of each other. The second in command tossed her helmet onto a nearby table and the investigator wore a bowling shirt with a team name on it.
Kayleigh looked at him. “Really? You’re like a walking stereotype.”
The former detective laughed. “Sure, woman who stays up all night video gaming with twelve-year-olds. I’m the stereotype.”
Deacon laughed and she hit him, which drew a burst of laughter from the others. Diana sobered quickly, though. “Choose a drink, you two. You’ll need it. We’ll talk first, then feast. Stan is holding stuff in the warmer for us.”
They obliged, and the owner proved his customer senses were firing perfectly by bringing bowls of chips, pretzels, and pickles to the table with another bucket of bottles. She nodded at Deacon. “Lay it out for us again.”
He straightened and set his bottle down. “We’ve come to a moment of crisis with Sloan. There’s suspicion of a traitor within the gang. We have two primary concerns—his safety and the need to be informed of what the enemy group is up to. Kayleigh has already suggested eliminating them, but the boss has rejected that.”
“Because we’re not sure we have all of them,” Cara interrupted.
Deacon nodded. “So, that leaves us with those questions, which seem to be impossible to reconcile.”
No one spoke for a minute, so Diana said, “Let’s brainstorm it. All ideas are welcome.”
“Pull him out and damn the consequences,” Kayleigh said. “We can deal with stuff as it comes.”
“Pull him out but bug the place again,” Tony countered,
Cara shook her head but kept to the rules and didn’t criticize any of the suggestions that had gone before. “Keep him on the string a little longer but create an escape plan.”
Deacon shrugged. “I think the best course of action is to protect our own. Maybe we could set a trap for them or something?”
There were a few more potential plans shared, but they were all variations on the same themes. Nothing was compelling enough to make the decision easy. Diana was about ready to opt for the status quo when Tony belched politely and spoke as he stretched for another beer. “I have a question, though. How did our boy find out about the upcoming op?”
She had traded messages with him for the details before they’d come to the tavern. “The witch called him, the new human leader, and three others up to the office.”
“Why?”
She tilted her head at him in confusion. “Why what?”
“Why did she do it that way rather than telling everyone at once?”
Deacon shrugged. “Maybe she didn’t want the magical side knowing they were being cut out?”
Cara tapped a finger against a tooth. “Yeah, that could be. But what if it wasn’t that? What if there was a reason those particular people were in the room?”
Diana realized what they were referring to. “Do you think they might specifically suspect one of those five? Or that they’re choosing people at random to search for leaks?”
Tony nodded. “It’s what we would do in a similar situation—feed information to a small group as a test. If it doesn’t leak, move on to the next. If it does, you can drill down further.”
Kayleigh sounded more worried than she had earlier. “Or simply kill them all out of hand. This means we need to let the warehouse thing happen. We can’t afford to out him.”
Diana rapped her knuckles on the table. “We can’t. That is not an option. If it’s what they describe, it’s too valuable to allow the contents to be stolen. We’ll check it, of course, but I’ve heard of it before and all indications are that there’s inventory inside our evil friends would love to get their hands on. Dammit, we should have identified this when they targeted the police station—it’s the logical next step for them.” She drummed her fingers on the table and thought hard while her people remained silent. Finally, she sighed. “Kayleigh’s correct. We’ve run Sloan as long as we can. I say we pull him out. But”—she turned to Cara—“you have to be on board with this since you have a price on your head.”
Her second in command nodded decisively. “I believe it’s the right moment for him to come in out of the cold. Let’s make it happen. But let’s do it in a way that will hurt those scumbags the most.”
There were smiles on everyone’s face, and Diana realized she had one on hers, as well. “Okay, then. We’re decided. Deacon, tell Stan to bring us the food. Now that we know our objective, we can eat and plan at the same time. Before we leave, we need to have a solid idea of how to both crush their raid on the warehouse and get Face out safely.”
Chapter Eighteen
Murray hadn’t wasted any time, which was why Sloan was now in a panel van with a group of the other humans from the Remembrance gang and on the way to the warehouse. Honestly, his assumption of power and inspiration to move are fairly impressive. He felt disconnected from reality by the suddenness of the action. A standby notice from Diana had arrived the night before but he’d received no communication since. His signal to let the team know they were on the move had been released into cyberspace when he’d climbed in the vehicle fifteen minutes earlier. The rest of the squad looked as confused as he felt so apparently, Mur had sprung the op on all of them.
The six with h
im were bouncy, excited, and eager to plunder the location and prove their worth to the new boss. He wasn’t any of those things, and the waves of enthusiasm that constantly washed over him were irritating beyond words. Idiots. The driver and their leader beside him probably felt the same. They had only brought eight people, as Sarah had assured them the facility would be mostly unguarded once they cleared the main checkpoint. Two or three men on patrol at the most, she’d said. Sloan didn’t believe it would be that easy because nothing ever was, but it had certainly opened the opportunity to run the operation on short notice.
Mur spoke over the headphones they all wore for the job. “Okay, listen. We’ll stop about a quarter-mile out. Tommy and Randall will eliminate the guard at the gate from behind while we drive up. Then, you’ll let us in and the van will pull up to the loading dock. We’ll split into two teams to look for patrols and gear. Randall mans the entrance in the guard’s shirt or jacket and hat, and Murph stays with the truck. It should be an easy one. We can be in and out in ten minutes—thirty at most if things aren’t clearly labeled.” He had confided to the agent that they had the item numbers for the crates holding the items they had been sent to retrieve, thanks to the electronic incursion into the police computer system.
He shook his head. The last thing crazy Sarah needs is more magical artifacts. He glanced at his phone one final time before he put it away and saw the message from Kayleigh’s assumed identity.
Urgent that we reach you regarding the senate race in your state! Please reply as soon as possible on our new website. He concentrated to suppress the adrenaline that blazed through him as he read those words.
Finally. And what absolutely useless timing. The word “urgent” told him that he was to break from his cover and vanish at the earliest opportunity. The reference to the new website meant he was to use the option they’d sent him the night before, which involved a different safe house than originally planned—assuming he could get to it. Their first choice, long before, had been near the warehouse. Now, apparently, they wanted him to have more distance from their enemies. That suits me fine.