She was also dressed in black combat armor, and I could tell she had spent some time in the gym. The air of relaxed menace about her let me know she had had extensive training.
Like Carlos, she wore several thigh holsters holding large guns. Unlike Carlos, she carried a shotgun strapped to her back. I could see the runework on the barrel of the Mossberg 590A1 Tactical. Whatever she shot with that thing was in for a bad day.
She stood absolutely still, something much harder than it sounds. If I hadn’t sensed her presence, she would have blended into the background. The stillness, along with her posture and gaze, let me know she had been trained in counter-surveillance. I glanced her way and she gave me a slight nod, which I returned. She was ten times the threat Carlos was.
There would be no pissing contest with her; she knew she was dangerous and had no need to prove it to anyone. I made a mental note not to piss her off—not yet, at least.
“Douglas,” I said. “You wanted to see me.”
“I did,” Douglas said. “I see you’ve met Carlos. Pay him no mind, he’s young and full of himself. Reminds me of you a lifetime ago.”
“I was young, but never stupid,” I said. “I knew better than to underestimate potential threats.” I turned to the woman. “And this is?”
“That’s Feelds,” Douglas said, gesturing to the woman in the corner. “She’s on loan to us from an agency I can’t divulge. One of the best shooters you want at your back on a breach.”
Douglas looked the same as I remembered. A little more gray in the hair, and some noticeable wrinkles around the eyes, but other than normal signs of aging he looked the same. He exercised regularly and it showed. He was still all hard angles and muscle, and looked every bit like the ex-military man he was.
“Feelds,” I said with a slight nod, looking around and not seeing George. “Where’s Rott?”
“He’ll be here shortly,” Douglas replied, staring at Monty. “This is the mage?”
“The mage? No, he is a mage,” I said, motioning to Monty. “Douglas, Tristan. Tristan, Douglas.”
Monty nodded, but remained silent. Douglas did the same until he saw Peaches.
“What kind of dog is that?” Douglas asked. “His breed doesn’t match anything in our databases.”
His statement had revealed a few things: they were watching me, which I figured, and their database wasn’t extensive enough to explain what breed Peaches was. It meant they had holes in their information—holes I could exploit.
“He’s a very rare breed,” I said. “Tell me, why am I here, Douglas? I’m guessing it has nothing to do with my hound.”
Douglas stood and pointed to a map on the conference table.
“First of all, thank you for coming.”
“You didn’t leave me much choice,” I said, looking at the map. “I still haven’t agreed to this mission.”
“You’re here,” Douglas said, confident. “We have a mutual goal in this.”
“I have a mutual goal with Shadow Company? You must be kidding.”
Douglas hardened his expression.
“It wasn’t too long ago that you shared the vision,” Douglas said, his voice gentle, but dangerous. “That you were one of us.”
“I was, right up until you felt that any losses were acceptable to achieve the mission,” I said, matching the threat in his voice. “That’s the day I realized your vision had blinded you.”
“I’ve learned from my mistakes. You could say I’ve seen the light. So has Rott.”
“Ever since Cassandra, his focus has been dragons.”
“His focus is our focus,” Douglas said. “We seek out the source instead of going after branches. Now we seek to uproot the entire tree.”
“By confronting dragons?” I asked. “That way lies madness.”
“Only to the unprepared,” Douglas said. “Eliminating dragons means eliminating most of the magical issues in this city. They have their hands in everything. We can remove them from the equation and secure the city—two birds, one fist.”
My brain called BS. Men like Douglas were too set in their ways to change. He would disguise and justify his reasoning, rationalizing it was for the greater good, but it always came down to the same thing—power.
“I see you haven’t lost your ability for inspirational speeches,” I said, giving him a cold stare. “I’m not drinking the Kool-Aid. Tell me, why am I here?”
I saw the anger flit across his face before he got it under control, replacing it with a disingenuous smile.
“I need your help. Shadow Company needs your particular…skill.”
“Plenty of other shooters in this city.”
“Exactly what I told Rott, but he asked for you specifically.”
“Since when do you take suggestions from Rott, or anyone?”
“Our purposes align,” Douglas said. “He made a cogent argument that you were the best at what you did and I’d prefer we keep this op in-house.”
“What is the op?”
He smiled, thinking my curiosity had gotten the better of me. Part of me did want to know how they would attempt to take down a dragon; the other part of me just wanted to put a bullet in his smug face and call it a night. I opted for listening to the op.
“We need to destabilize the balance between the two major dragon enclaves in this city,” Douglas said. “We have an opportunity to weaken an enclave, with one mission. It’s elegant and simple.”
“Nothing is ever simple,” I said. “What will weakening an enclave do? You still have the other to deal with.”
“A weakened enclave would be the perfect catalyst for a dragon civil war,” Douglas said. “We light the match and watch them burn each other to ash.”
“A civil war?” I asked. “Wouldn’t that cause collateral damage? Serious collateral damage?”
“In order to excise a tumor, an incision must be made,” Douglas said turning the map and pointing to a location. “This is our incision. The target is the tumor.”
“Who exactly is this target?”
“The dragon enclave leader, Magnus M. Balfour.”
TWENTY
“You’re insane,” I said, looking at the map. He was pointing to the location of the TINY. “He’s a dragon enclave leader. How would you even get close to him?”
Douglas looked at me, glanced at Monty, and then looked at me again.
“We have reason to believe Balfour will be vulnerable tomorrow night,” Douglas said. “Tomorrow, he will be at this location to pick up a vehicle.” He pointed to the map again. “We will arrange the transfer and eliminate the target.”
They somehow knew about Balfour picking up the Duezy, which either meant Cecil had a leak, or they had an insider in the Balfour Enclave. Both seemed unlikely, but Douglas appeared confident, which meant his intel was solid. This was bad. I did my best to keep my face impassive.
“How could you possibly know that?” I asked. “I would imagine information like that isn’t exactly common knowledge.”
“We have an inside man,” Douglas said with a tight smile. “Someone you know.”
“You managed to turn a dragon to help you?” I asked. “I find that unlikely. Dragons can’t stand humans, much less want to help them.”
“No, not a dragon. Something better.”
“Something better? What are you…?”
I felt the strange energy signature. It caused both Monty and me to turn at the presence entering the situation room.
“Hello, Simon,” the unfamiliar man said with George Rott’s voice. “It’s good to see you again.”
“Rott?” I asked. “That you?”
The voice was definitely George Rott’s, but the rest wasn’t. This man was young and well-built, where I remembered Rott being older and heavyset. Rott had graying black hair, and this person was bald. The real difference was in the face and eyes. Rott had normal human eyes. The eyes I looked into appeared reptilian for a few seconds before shifting to human.
I was
staring at a stranger. A much younger and stronger stranger.
“Mostly me, with some upgrades,” George said with arms outstretched. “It takes some getting used to.” He rubbed his head. “I do miss the hair, though.”
“How did you…? I mean, I saw you explode.”
“I honestly thought I was dead,” Rott said. “When I regained consciousness, no one knew who I was and then I realized why.”
He pointed to his face.
“The combination of the synthetic entropy bomb, the Kragzimik, and you must have combined to create this transformation,” Monty said. “You were somehow spliced with the energy instead of destroyed by it.”
Rott nodded.
“The Kragzimik unleashed some energy there, right at the end, before I detonated the bomb, and I was caught in the blast. It killed the dragon and I came out like this. It was perfect.”
“How is this perfect?” I asked. “You don’t know what happened to you, to your body. For all you know you could be dy—”
“I know exactly what happened,” Rott interrupted, his voice sharp. “I was born again, given a second chance. Don’t you see? That dragon died, but I lived. This was meant to be. I am meant for a greater purpose. I have a calling. I rose from the ashes and flames of a dragon, like a phoenix.”
I looked deep into Rott’s eyes and realized that this had been more than a physical transformation. The man that he had been was gone, replaced with a zealot. I could guess what this “calling” was, but I needed to hear him say it. I needed to know how far off the cliff into madness he had stepped.
“A calling?” I asked, modulating my voice. “What calling, exactly?”
“Don’t you see?” Rott asked. “I can blend in with them. I’m not as powerful as one of them, but I could infiltrate their enclave and pass for a dragon. Now, I can attack from within. I can make them pay for what they did to Cassandra, and you’re going to help me.”
Rott had stepped into Wile E. Coyote territory. He was so far off the cliff, he didn’t know he was hanging in mid-air. I didn’t want to think about what would happen when he realized the ground was gone.
The crash was going to be spectacularly fatal. I almost felt sorry for him; this entire crusade had been born in grief. The loss of Cassandra had set him off, and the explosion with the Kragzimik had finished the process, destroying his mind.
“Help you?” I asked warily. “How can I help you? You’re the one with the now perfect disguise. Dragons can sniff me out a mile away.”
“You’re right. I can get close, and I have, but none of us can take the shot,” Rott said. “You can. I can get you the ammunition and firing solution you need to make it one and done. One shot, one kill.”
“This Balfour is a dragon. Bullets don’t really work on them. Trust me, I’ve tried—they bounce off.”
“Normal ordnance would, yes,” Douglas said. “But we have something special for Mr. Balfour.”
Douglas put a large round on the map. Black wisps of energy floated off its surface. It reminded me of my entropy rounds, but I had never seen one designed like this—much less a .50 caliber round created for a Barrett M82.
“Where did you get that?” Monty asked, concerned. “Who made this for you?”
“That is a need-to-know situation,” Douglas said. “And you don’t need to know.”
“What is that?” I said looking at the runed round. “It reads like an—”
“That is a runed entropy round, keyed to Balfour’s DNA,” Douglas said, with a sense of satisfaction. “It cost a small fortune to produce and we were only able to make a handful, but you only need one.”
“It’s a dragon killer,” Rott said, his voice soft. “I can finally get some justice for Cassandra.”
“Cassandra’s killer is dead,” I said, keeping my voice even. “Slif is dead. I should know, I was there when she exploded.”
“The dragon that killed my little girl is a symptom,” Rott said. “I’m going to remove the sickness. It starts with Balfour.”
“Where does it end?” I asked. “Are you planning to kill all of the dragons?”
“Yes, except I’m going to let them kill each other,” Rott said. “Balfour will be the catalyst. By the time I’m done, they will be tearing each other apart.”
“What about the collateral damage? You start a civil war, people will die.”
“They deserve to die if they sympathize with dragon scum,” Rott snapped. “There will be the loss of some innocents, but that can’t be helped. This is a war. War is messy. There will be casualties.”
I stared at Rott and then glanced quickly at Monty. He gave me a look that said Don’t even bother, he’s a lost cause, before coughing into his hand.
“How are you going to get close to him?” I asked. “He probably has the best security on the planet.”
“He’s an entitled self-important prick,” Douglas said. “He would never drive his own vehicle. That’s why we’ll be driving it for him.”
“I will be his driver when he picks up his vehicle at his restaurant,” Rott said. “I’ll make sure you have your shot. You just have to make sure you don’t miss—this time.”
TWENTY-ONE
Douglas explained the plan to me.
I had to admit that it was clever, yet not too clever, and simple enough to have few moving parts, which gave it a chance of succeeding. A high chance.
Rott had managed to insert himself into Balfour’s driver pool. I don’t know how he managed it, but tomorrow night Cecil would deliver the Duezy to the TINY. From there, Rott would drive Magnus to an annual enclave meeting, where only the leaders of the enclave would be present.
En route to this meeting, Balfour would have a fatal meeting with one of the special entropy dragon killer rounds. Rott would stage it to make it look like the Obouros Enclave ordered a hit on Balfour and succeeded. It was a classic because it worked, even though a part of me really wanted to ask if we could frame Guilder instead.
I doubted they would get the reference and it would only serve to piss them off. The last thing I needed was a group of trained, trigger-happy assassins trying to kill me more than they already were.
I saw what the play was; if I took the shot and killed Magnus, I was certain the next move was to remove me from the board and claim I was working with the Obouros Enclave. If I didn’t take the shot, they’d find a way to remove Magnus, blaming Obouros and me. Shortly after, they would come after me with the help of Obouros. Shadow Company never allowed loose ends. For good measure, they’d try to eliminate Monty, too.
It was lose-lose for me every way I looked at the scenario.
That was the straight play. If I factored in that Rott or Douglas were working with Magnus to loop me into a vendetta mission, it made even more sense. Rott would get his revenge for Cassandra, Magnus would be seen to remove Slif’s killer, reinforcing his position as enclave leader. Douglas was the outlier. I couldn’t see what he would get out of going along with Rott’s plan.
“You will do this for me, for Cassandra,” Rott said after the plan was laid out. “You owe me, Strong. You do this, and the scales are even.”
“You think starting a dragon war will balance the scales?” I asked, letting my anger get away from me. “What part of this entire op brings your daughter back?”
“I think…starting a dragon war will remove their cancer from my city,” Rott said gripping the conference table. “I will do this, and you will help me so that no father has to bury his child because a monster cut her down.”
I saw Rott’s fingers press into the table, punching holes into the wood. It would seem his transformation was more than cosmetic. There was no rationalizing with him—his course was set and he would follow it to the end, even if it meant the end of his life.
“I don’t see why you would need a mage for this op,” I said. “I assume you have coms and diversions handled. I’m guessing Carlos is your blaster, and Feelds here is surveillance. If I’m the shooter and Rott is dr
iving, that leaves Douglas to run comms and run tactical. We don’t need him.”
“He’s our insurance,” Rott said. “Like you said, we’re facing dragons. I’m stronger than I was”—he looked down at the holes in the table—“but I’m not as strong as Balfour. That’s where he comes in.”
“You are seriously overestimating my abilities,” Monty said. “Balfour is stronger than me by orders of magnitude.”
“Then it would behoove Strong to put him down quickly, don’t you think?” Rott said. “This time, you won’t have a choice. You either drop Balfour, or your friend, the mage here, dies when he confronts an angry dragon.”
“Why would I do that?” Monty asked. “This entire plan is a disaster.”
“I could see how you would think that way,” Rott said with a nod. “Let me see if I can help you see the merits of this op. After my transformation, I was able to pick up on particular energy signatures in the city. Specifically those magical in nature.”
I didn’t like where this was going.
“There’s a reason why we’re meeting here,” Rott said. “Aside from it being the place where I lost my little girl, it’s also the place where someone close to you works, isn’t it, mage? A certain Director DeMarco?”
“She’s in a secure location,” Monty said and I could feel the menace in his words. “Surrounded by a security team.”
“Not exactly,” Rott said. “We couldn’t get to Elias, the head of the team, but the rest of the sorcerers we inserted into Haven are ours.”
“How many?” Monty asked keeping his voice calm. “How many have you placed in Haven?”
“More than you can easily handle, mage.”
“You have no idea how many I can handle.”
“Doesn’t matter. If you fail to follow the plan, I will instruct them to eliminate everyone in the building, starting with your Director.”
“There are hundreds of patients in that building,” I said. “What are you saying?”
Requiem: A Montague & Strong Detective Novel (Montague & Strong Case Files Book 13) Page 15