Magic Ops

by T. R. Cameron

He didn’t rise to the joke, which worried her more than any words that might follow. “There are some people at these tables who read wrong to me. They’re harder than those around them.”

  She made another turn to the far side of the room and saw what he meant. At the nearest table, eight of the guests struck her as normal DC types. Dedicated politicos who kept fit, maybe even were true gym rats, but all only to look pretty in service of their careers. The other two, seated side-by-side, seemed more solid, both physically and in the attitude they presented. The pair caused her inner voice to take notice in a way that their tablemates did not.

  Diana raised her left hand and touched the tiny protrusion on the side of her AR glasses. A high-resolution still image of the couple uploaded to one of the high-speed wireless receivers they’d planted throughout the hotel’s first floor and forwarded to the mobile command post parked a block away. There was a brief delay while the techs did their work, and she checked her watch. Six fifty—ten minutes until the ambassador should arrive and forty until the Vice President threw the place into lockdown. One of the team in the bus was responsible for tracking their arrivals, and his young voice provided updates every few minutes. All signs suggested that both would arrive on time and as planned.

  After three minutes of pacing, a tech’s voice rose, young and excited over the line. She had a little Boston in her accent but not enough to distract. “Okay, those two are currently listed as principals with Alpha Dog security consulting.”

  Diana turned her laugh at the ridiculous name into a discreet cough. “Seriously?”

  She could hear the matching amusement in the tech’s voice. “The security companies are subtle, right? Anyway, they seem legit, but have also been tagged as being in the employ of some questionables.”

  “Oricerans?” Bryant asked.

  “Wait one.” The channel was quiet for a moment and when the tech returned, she sounded a little more serious than she had before. “No Oriceran connection in the records, but they apparently have been linked to some really questionable ops. Their most recent press release includes a mention of working for Bloomten International—which, if you dig deep enough, is associated with some of the contractors the government hammered for looting overseas.”

  Diana deliberately made no effort to look at them but scanned the tables ahead as she turned the corner at the back. “So, scumbags.”

  Her partner agreed. “Scumbags who have unexpectedly turned up at a thousand-dollar-a-plate event with some seriously high-profile VIPs.”

  Taggart sounded concerned but calm. “We’re getting pictures of everyone and running them through now.”

  Bryant peeked behind the drape across the way before his gaze returned to the room. “Why didn’t we flag these guys at the checkpoint?” The Secret Service had agreed to use ARES equipment to screen the guests as they entered the dining room. It included the same sensing suite as the base, plus facial recognition through every government database ARES had access to either legitimately or through back doors.

  Taggart clearly wondered the same thing. “They either didn’t come through—which is almost impossible—or they did something to defeat that security. We have no record of them entering through the checkpoint.”

  Bryant’s voice was a low growl. “I see at least eight more paired up that seem out of place, plus a few more questionable folks who look like they’re flying solo. We should abort.”

  The SAC was decisive. “Not a chance. We don’t have that power. Only the Service can call it off.”

  “Convince them.” Diana couldn’t remember hearing such weight in the agent’s voice before.

  “I’ve suggested it and they refused. The VP won’t do it.”

  Bryant’s anger was palpable. “Idiot.” ARES personnel were almost entirely apolitical. They didn’t care who held the offices, they merely wanted them to make smart decisions. Unfortunately, they were frequently frustrated in that desire.

  Diana decided to cut through the center of the room and take a closer look. Ahead of her, a server stumbled as one of the boisterous diners threw his arms up with a giant belly laugh. She grabbed the woman to steady her and kept her from dropping the tray. The server smiled gratefully and moved on. The matching smile vanished from Diana’s face as soon as she turned away, and the cold metal on her right wrist pulsed bolts of alarm through her. She raised her other hand to adjust her hair and whispered “Illusion present. I think it’s a server.”

  To their credit, neither the ARES agents nor the Secret Service in the room reacted beyond a tightening of expressions and subtle moves to put their hands closer to their weapons.

  If one could whisper a scream, Bryant certainly did so. “Boss—

  “Negative, Bry. They won’t do it.” The agent cursed and Taggart continued. “You two and Trent take paths through the tables. We’re tracking your movements. Any time you get a reading from your bracelet, tap your watch.”

  They complied, and a map of the room appeared in the far right of her glasses. It showed blues of varying hues depending on whether one, two, or all of them identified the presence of an illusion.

  Bryant’s voice registered even more concern, which she would have thought impossible. “That’s a lot of blue. It probably explains how they got through the barrier at the checkpoint. We need to add the bracelet tech to our scanners.”

  “Noted,” the SAC replied.

  Even ARES misses stuff sometimes, apparently.

  The voice that had marked time entered the conversation. “The ambassador’s out of the car and on the way to security.”

  Bryant and Diana moved to their assigned positions for the event, taking opposite sides of the room about a third of the distance back from the stage. They faced the center and observed the diners through their glasses switched to fisheye to provide a wider range of vision. These would sense any substantial motion by the wearer and eliminate the distorted view if action was necessary. The crowd gave a standing ovation as the ambassador walked onto the stage and waved to them.

  Rath intruded at the edge of her hearing. “Ooh.”

  The ambassador stepped up to speak, and the crowd settled back into their seats in a wave.

  Suddenly, the lights went out and the backup lights kicked on an instant later. Many in the crowd laughed nervously, but not those who had remained standing. These men were already on the move.

  The backup lights extinguished and plunged the room into darkness.

  Shit.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Her glasses rendered the room in shades of green and gray as they switched to night vision mode. The people they’d identified at the tables were still on their feet and their hands dipped into pockets, under jackets, or into purses. Several of the workers had dropped their trays and were in deliberate motion as well.

  “Some servers are hostiles.”

  Her Glock cleared its holster, and she twisted toward the front. The six-figure tables held no apparent enemies.

  Even criminals have budgets.

  Her area of responsibility was the left side of the room, so she found the first likely target on that side and lined the shot up. He hadn’t drawn a weapon yet, and her innate caution wouldn’t allow her to squeeze the trigger. When a gun appeared in his hand, however, she didn’t hesitate. She put a round into his hip, another into his back, and the third into his shoulder. In almost the same motion, she adjusted her aim to the woman beside him, who had drawn her own pistol from the patent leather clutch she carried. Diana struck her twice in the arm and once in the leg as the target tried to change position for a better angle. The man fell to the left, and the woman crumpled to lie across the table.

  The room filled with screams as the chaos built. Diana distantly registered the familiar gunfire of Trent and Bryant’s weapons. The BAM pistols all sounded slightly different than the off-the-shelf models, thanks to Emerson’s tinkering. She sought the next target and kept one eye on the ambassador’s security team as they rushed him toward th
e far end of the stage. In that instant, three things happened simultaneously. First, the Secret Service responded and fired at obvious targets behind her. Second, the ARES team members positioned outside the doors flooded in. There were contingencies for most situations, including power loss, and barked incantations preceded orbs of wizard light that blazed up to hover at ceiling height. The space was bathed in a cold glow.

  The third thing was not nearly as positive. On the stage, from the exit point the ambassador’s team had chosen, a pair of dark figures appeared. A fireball and a bolt of force eliminated the guards in an instant. The ambassador raised his hands to cast a counter attack, but tendrils wound around him, yanked his arms tightly to his side, and covered his mouth. He floated through the door a foot off the ground, preceded by at least one enemy and trailed by another who backpedaled to guard against intervention but otherwise passed on the opportunity to join the fray.

  And you think nobody noticed, scumbags?

  “They’ve taken the ambassador, house right front.” Diana immediately flowed into a run and shoved through the panicked crowd to leap onto the low stage and pound after them. Bryant was a couple of steps behind her when she reached his side of the room, and she imagined Trent would be on his way as well.

  Taggart’s calm voice cut through the surrounding din. “Squad one, secure stairwells and elevators. Don’t let them go up. Squad two, cover the front and back exits. Secret Service will take care of the dining room and the sides of the building. Sniper teams, check in.”

  The sleepy voice of Tara Brenner, the most wicked shot on the team, replied first. “Sniper one, no activity in front.”

  Johnson’s smooth tones followed immediately after. “Sniper two, three unmarked SUVs approaching the back.”

  There was a pause, then Taggart answered, “Drones have them in sight. They’re not Service or us. Take them out.”

  Diana reached the edge of the stage and through a gap in the drape, saw the corridor beyond. She waited until Bryant arrived, then pointed at herself and held a finger up, and he nodded. A crouching sidestep into the hallway with her pistol extended revealed no enemies. She stood and rushed toward the double doors to the kitchen a dozen feet ahead.

  “Cars immobilized,” Johnson reported. He sounded bored at first but ended on a hopeful note. “Weapons free?”

  Taggart was quick to reply. “Negative. FBI and DCPD are on the way. We have the runners tagged with the drone. Unless they attempt to intervene, let ʼem go and focus on the building.”

  “Affirmative.” The sniper sighed regretfully.

  She barged into the door to the kitchen and plowed through without slowing. This section seemed to have escaped the blackout and the ugly florescent lights above threw everything into harsh definition and the staff stood with hands raised. “Where’d they go?” she shouted. Fingers pointed toward a side exit that headed toward the interior of the building. She kicked it open and stuck her head through to discover an immediate left-hand turn and stairs down. Damn. Why would they trap themselves in the basement?

  Cautiously but quickly, she began her descent and kept her pistol trained ahead. “They’re headed down. Are there exits below?”

  “Checking,” the SAC replied. Diana reached the bottom of the stairs, which ended at another door. This one felt more dangerous for some reason. She removed her jacket to ensure quicker access to her gear and met Bryant’s eyes as he did the same. He nodded his readiness. She patted Rath’s cylinder to make sure it was still with her.

  “There’s nothing on the blueprints other than the freight elevator,” Taggart said,

  Johnson added, “And no activity where the elevator opens onto the alley. I have eyes on it.”

  Diana shook her head to clear the impatience.

  Fine. whatever. Let’s do this.

  She pounded her foot into the door to open it and darted through. The first thing she noticed was the size of the basement. The room was probably a little larger than the dining room. Pallets of wrapped supplies covered both sides to leave an irregular lane between them. It was wide enough to accommodate the small forklift parked against the wall in a nearby corner. The second thing she noticed was the glint of rifle barrels in the instant before the clatter of weapons fire began. She skipped to the right, ducked behind a stack of boxes, and crouched as soon as she was out of their line of sight. Bullets punched through the cardboard above and rang against the metal of the forklift beside her.

  Bryant crouched on the opposite side of the room behind his own tower of sight-blockers. The initial salvo of bullets slowed to a stop, and the echoes bounced around until they, too, faded. He pointed at himself and slashed a hand to indicate the middle lane. She nodded and he started the count using his fingers. At one, she crabbed out, fired blindly down the alley, and squeezed the trigger steadily to cover his advance until her gun clicked empty. Diana scuttled back against the wall and hoped the depth of the obstruction would hide her from return fire. She ejected the magazine, replaced it, and racked the slide automatically.

  Her partner’s gun barked, and she dashed out of her own position and scanned frantically to find cover. There was none so Diana increased her speed as she flashed past Bryant and flicked the selector to burst. Ahead, two adversaries with rifles stepped clear of their own protection on either side of the lane. She extended her gun arm, dropped into a slide along the rough concrete floor, and pulled the trigger as rapidly as it could respond, her aim focused on the one on the right. Her bullets stitched a diagonal across him and catapulted him back before he could fire. She thrust both her arm and her will out and pictured the other gunman’s rifle barrel rise to the ceiling. His bullets went high as the muzzle tilted, and Bryant fired the fatal shot. She pushed up onto trembling legs and blew out a breath to steady herself. “Too close.”

  Even in the heat of battle, he managed to tease her. He imitated her voice. “You didn’t tell me you had magic.”

  She raced forward to flank the doors out of the room, and he matched her on the opposite side. “You lied first,” she whispered. “Also, bite me.”

  Taggart’s interruption was startling. “Focus, people. We have a team coming down after you, Bryant, Diana.”

  “Tell them to go faster.” Diana bulldozed through the door and her slow-motion magic spider sense saved her. She threw herself to the ground as a thin beam of confined flame speared through the space her skull had just occupied. The fleeting look she had of her assailant’s face as she rolled to the side filled her with rage. She growled. “It’s the skinny fuck who tried to kill Rath. I bet the bastard giant is here, too, since they seem only to come as a set. Why the hell aren’t they in the Cube?”

  After a brief silence, Taggart spoke roughly, his voice a strange mix of angry and apologetic. “The transport was apparently ambushed on the way. The team at the prison thought it would be a good idea to do their own investigation before they reported it.”

  Forgiveness was not in Diana’s wheelhouse at the moment. “Mark them down for a boot to the head.” She raced in pursuit and the blood pounded in her ears as she yelled, “Get back here, scumbag!” Rath’s cannister shook violently at her hip and snapped open. He leapt out and to the side, already starting to grow. By the time she reached the corner the wizard had fled around, the troll ran beside her, a fierce grin on his face.

  “Fighting mode.”

  “Let’s kick some ass, Rath.”

  She was ready for it when they rounded the turn and saw the two who’d conspired to damage her car standing side-by-side. Rath angled toward the skinny mage, who blanched at the sight of him but still launched streams of flame in his direction. The troll bobbed and weaved and laughed with what could be called fiendish delight. He made it close enough to jump and launched into a two-footed kick that would’ve done Jet Li proud. The mage yelled, “Not this time!” and flicked his wand.

  A shimmering wave struck him, and he hurtled into the wall at his side before he dropped hard. Diana ground her t
eeth and emptied her pistol at the huge figure in front of her, but he dodged most of them and laughed at the ones that did strike home. She thought briefly about going for her backup gun, but building rage pushed her to use her fists.

  Besides, I might need the anti-magic bullets later.

  The skinny man was already racing from the room. Bryant called, “I’m on him,” as he barreled past.

  Diana holstered her weapon. “Okay, big boy. Let’s see if you’re any better in round two.” In her peripheral vision, she saw Rath flip to his feet. Thankfully, he looked none the worse for wear. She yelled, “Help Bryant!” as she ducked under a wicked hook from the muscled mountain and threw a low X-block against the body jab that followed. She attempted a wrist lock, but he pulled away before she could apply it. The move opened his ribs, and she powered a quick step-sidekick into them and drove him back a half-foot.

  Shit. That should have put him into the wall.

  She danced back as he threw a series of kicks with a wide grin. He rumbled at her and condescension dripped from his words. “I underestimated you before, but not this time. You’ll have to do better than that, little girl, if you want to save your partner and your pet.”

  Her anger impelled her forward, and she attacked with a furious combination of body punches and a kick to the shin. He weathered them all and spun an elbow at her face. When she dodged, he drilled his own sidekick into her. The Kevlar blunted the impact enough that her ribs didn’t break, but the sharp pain suggested that at least one was cracked. He was on her before she could recover, landed two body blows against her blocking arms, and brought an ax kick down at her shoulder.

  Diana took the only option, which was to fall and roll under his descending heel to save her collarbone. She scrambled back as he stamped at her and managed to swing her legs around for an ankle sweep. It didn’t connect but it forced him back long enough that she could use the momentum to climb to her feet. He still wore the grin. Frustration flowed through her, and she embraced it, picturing Rath and Bryant in trouble. Her fury climbed. She absorbed it hungrily and packed it into her flesh, visualizing it as a pool of bubbling red power waiting in her core.