Weaver

by John Abramowitz

  Chapter 11

  Wednesday, 6:07 p.m.

  Alex Cronlord raced up the sidewalk of Moira McBain’s house alongside her father, heart and mind racing. If her vision was accurate – and they had been, unerringly, so far – there was a Xorda in there with Agent McBain. How would they get it away from her? Or worse, what if it had already killed her? Alex had little faith in her own abilities in a hand-to-hand fight, and while her father was ex-military, Alex knew from painful personal experience that Xorda had physical abilities above and beyond those of humans. She tried to keep the sick fear that they were walking into a death trap at the back of her mind.

  They reached Agent McBain’s front door, and Alex turned her head quickly to ask her father how they were going to get inside, since it was a safe bet Agent McBain herself was not in a position to let them in. Before she could even open her mouth, however, James kicked open the door with a loud BAM! Inside, Alex saw the Xorda – Agent Hall – on top of Agent McBain, pinning her to the ground, preparing to drink her soul and end her life.

  “NO!” Alex shrieked, as the Xorda looked up at her. For a moment she chastised herself for attracting its attention, but then her mind caught up with her – after her father’s theatrics with the door, any hope of stealth was gone anyway. She saw its hungry eyes on her, and then it leapt off of McBain with preternatural strength, angling straight for her with a guttural roar that could not come from any human throat.

  Alex’s eyes widened with fear as the Xorda launched itself at her, and she felt a dread rising in the pit of her stomach. A loud voice in her head told her to shrink back or even to turn and run if she could … but she did not. Instead, as if acting on its own volition, her right hand reached into her jacket pocket for a pocketknife she had kept on her person since shortly after joining Zach’s group. Palm sweaty from terror and certain that she would drop the knife and simply be killed, she flipped the blade upward and took a step toward the Xorda as it reached the apex of its leap.

  “Andy, no!” Agent McBain cried out as the whole scene played out at super speed before her eyes. But of course it was too late. Alex thrust her arm upward, putting as much force behind the movement as she could muster – and stabbed the Xorda in the chest. Right through the heart – if, in fact, the creature had one. The Xorda gave a croaking groan and its eyes closed as it fell to the ground.

  “So much for running away from everything,” Alex muttered ruefully, under her breath.

  “What?” her father asked, apparently having heard what she said.

  “Never mind – go get a match, quickly!” she told him, hurrying him away with a gesture.

  Moira stood slowly, shock, horror, surprise, and relief mingling on her face. “Wha –“ she murmured, rubbing her head as she got to her feet. “I thought only fire killed them.”

  “It does,” Alex told her. “But sticking something in the heart puts them to sleep. Or something. I found that out when Lucian came after me – the first time.”

  Before Moira could answer, her father’s voice rang out from the next room. “Honey?” he called, coming back into the room, “I’ve got the –“

  James Cronlord trailed off there, stopping in his tracks as his eyes fell on Agent McBain. She stood there brushing herself off, curly red hair falling over her bare shoulders. Her torso was bare save for a bra, showing off her muscular arms and lean form. Alex’s eyes went to her father, and saw his own eyes fixed on the red-haired woman, drinking in the sight of her as she stood there brushing herself off. Alex inwardly giggled and gave her father a nudge in the ribs, causing him to flush crimson and abruptly shift his attention to her.

  “What is it, honey?” he asked, with an unconvincing feigned innocence. “I said, I’ve got the matches.”

  “You said ‘I’ve got the,’ actually,” Alex teased, her eyes flashing. “But all right, let’s get this done.”

  “No,” Agent McBain interjected in a shaken, uneasy voice, leaning down to pick up her shirt where it lay discarded on the floor.

  “What?” asked father and daughter in unison, their heads turning as one in surprise.

  “Don’t burn him,” McBain told them, voice steadier this time, though it was obvious something still weighed on her.

  “But he’s –“ Alex started, her voice trailing off in utter surprise over what Moira was asking them to do.

  “I know exactly what he is,” McBain answered. “and I’ll take his body and dump it somewhere. His people will find him eventually. Or they won’t. But don’t burn him.” As she spoke, she lowered her shirt over her body again.

  James Cronlord nodded to her. “It’s your call,” he told her.

  “Thanks for coming for me,” she answered, smiling in gratitude. “I’m assuming that was Alex’s handiwork?”

  James nodded again.

  “How’d you know where to find me?” she asked.

  James grinned slightly. “We Googled both yours and Agent Hall’s addresses. Then we came here first and prayed we were right.”

  This brought an ever-so-brief chuckle from Moira. “Well, thanks. To both of you.”

  “You’re welcome,” James told her. “And sorry for busting into your house like that. If you’re safe, we’ll leave you be. Come on, Alex.” He put a hand on his daughter’s shoulder, turning to go. Alex also turned and followed him.

  “Wait,” McBain called out to them, stopping them in their tracks.

  James turned to face the FBI agent.

  “I want in,” Moira told him.

  “On what?” James asked, honestly confused.

  “Your plans. Whatever you’re doing to bring down the Wells Society. I want in,” she answered, voice hardening with every word.

  James raised a skeptical eyebrow. “I thought getting involved in such things ‘wasn’t your role,’” he countered, echoing McBain’s words to him scarcely an hour ago.

  “I’m making it my role,” she answered without hesitation.

  “Why?”

  “Because I believe in what you’re doing,” she told him earnestly, looking him right in the eyes. “And because … there’s nothing holding me back now.” Her gaze went noticeably to Agent Hall’s prone form as she said this last.

  James nodded. “And you don’t care that what we’re doing might get you in trouble with your job?”

  McBain shook her head. “What the Society does to kids is a greater crime than anything they investigate, Mr. Cronlord. It ends now.”

  “Then welcome to the team, Agent McBain,” James told her, smiling warmly. “Though didn’t I tell you to call me ‘James’?”

  “You did. I choose not to."

  James looked taken aback. “Why?” he asked, a tinge of hurt mingling with the confusion in his voice.

  “Because I’m signing on to be your partner,” she told him coldly. “I have no interest in being your friend.”

  --

  7:00 p.m.

  The unlikely team sat around Moira’s kitchen table, which was actually a coffee table since she was accustomed to eating alone. Indeed, Moira had to dig extra folding chairs out of her garage, so unaccustomed was she to having company. On the table in front of them sat the folder full of papers that James Cronlord had taken from Ainsling’s safe. James convened the impromptu council of war by opening the folder, exposing the letter he had shown Alex earlier from the Vertigo Corporation.

  “This is the company Ainsling and the others are using to play God,” James told them. “They seem to be working through a Dr. Dale Rickston. On paper, he’s a biologist, but if you look at his portfolio – at the papers he’s published and the projects he’s listed as having spearheaded – he’s really more of a geneticist.”

  “I’ve heard of Vertigo – they’re a big multinational firm,” Moira put in. “The FBI’s had some dealings with them.”

  This caught James’s attention. “Busting up other shady dealings?”

  Moira shook her head. “The opposite. Some of the agents in our D.C. off
ice were put on watchdog duty outside their headquarters there. They get a fair number of government contracts to develop chemical weapons and there were rumors that some of the anti-war crowd might get … violent … about their objections to that.”

  “Ah,” he nodded, returning his attention to the papers. “Anyway, Rickston’s office is on the seventeenth floor. I’m working on getting blueprints of the building, just in case, but –“

  “I can get those,” Moira interrupted.

  James shot her a surprised look. “Are you sure? If you use your FBI access to do that, you could get in a lot of trouble if people start asking –“

  “I can do it,” she repeated coldly. “I knew what I was signing up for when I said I’d help you.”

  “I just don’t want to see you lose your job,” he told her, with concern.

  “Stop trying to protect me. It’s insulting, not endearing.”

  James and Alex visibly recoiled from the hostility in Moira's tone. After a moment’s silence, James said: “It’s not just about that. Your access could be useful to us later on – if you lose it now, we won’t have it anymore.”

  Okay, that does make sense. She briefly regretted having snapped at James, but refused to let it show on her face. She kept her expression carefully cool and all-business. “I won’t lose it,” she assured them coolly.

  “All right," said James. “I’m betting those doors lock up tight at five p.m. – I’m thinking we go in at four or so and hide in a restroom or a maintenance closet?”

  Moira nodded. “We can hide in the stalls if need be. I doubt security will open every single stall door looking for people.”

  James nodded at this, but Alex had a question. “You said this Rickston guy’s office is on the seventeenth floor?”

  “Yeah, honey,” James answered. “Why?”

  “What if they shut down the elevators, too?”

  “We could just hide on the seventeenth floor from the start?” Moira suggested.

  “Actually, we can’t,” James corrected her. “As far as I can tell, the entire sixteenth and seventeenth floors are completely taken up by Vertigo Corporation offices. Much more likely to be discovered that way.”

  “Then I guess we’d better hope the elevators stay on,” Moira answered, her tone clipped. “That, or bring jogging shorts to hoof it up seventeen flights of stairs.”

  “And what exactly are we looking for?” Alex asked.

  “Proof of what Ainsling and the Vertigo Corporation have been doing to you and the other kids,” he told her coolly.

  “Wait, you mean it’s not just Dr. Rickston that she’s working with over there?” Moira asked.

  “Well, that’s an interesting question,” James gave Moira a sober look. “Rickston is the only one I know for sure is working with her, but I did some checking on Vertigo Corporation. Turns out that one of its principal shareholders is one Marian Elreed, who also happens to be –“

  “On Zach’s list of Wells Society members,” Moira finished the sentence for him, a cold chill running down her spine as comprehension dawned. “So you think there may be a lot of underground work going on there?”

  “Maybe,” James nodded. “That’s one of the things I’m hoping to find out when we pay them a visit. Anybody here good at picking locks? I think my ‘kicking down the door’ stunt would attract some attention.” He and Alex echanged a wry grin. Moira kept her own face neutral.

  “I should be able to handle that,” Moira told him. “I always ended up doing it on our assignments, because Andy could never …” she trailed off in midsentence, assuming a faraway look. A moment passed in silence.

  James ended the silence by clearing his throat. “Anyway,” he continued awkwardly, “I’d also like to try to find a way to reverse what Ainsling did to Alex. She deserves to have a normal life, and --”

  “No,” Alex interrupted him suddenly.

  James’ head jerked around at hearing this. “What?” he asked, looking concerned. “But I thought you wanted … “

  “Dad … ” said Alex, and Moira saw that she was fidgeting as she spoke. “Can I talk to Agent McBain alone for a second? Please?”

  James looked back and forth between the two women. “Sure,” he told Alex, patting her shoulder as he stood up from his chair. “I’ll be right outside if you need me.”

  With that, he turned and walked out the kitchen door.

  Alex came right to the point. “I want to come work with you. When this is done,” she told the agent.

  Now that was a surprise “What? But Alex, you’re in school, you’re not even a high-school graduate yet, and …”

  “I’m sure you can get me out for a while, right?” Alex asked her, an eagerness and an intensity in her eyes. “Dad can home-school me, or you can tell them I’m part of an investigation you’re working on and you need my help for a while …”

  “Even if I could, why would you want to do that?” Moira asked. “You’d throw your education all off-track, you might mess up your chances of getting into college …”

  “Because I can help you,” Alex told her. “I just saved your life, didn’t I? Well, who says I couldn’t help you save some more lives?”

  Moira had to smile at the girl’s enthusiasm. It reminded her a bit of how she had been when she was younger, before Ian’s suicide had hardened her and changed enthusiasm into steely resolve. “Honey, even if we --”

  “Don’t call me that,” Alex told Moira stiffly. “We’re partners, remember? Not friends.” She was in no mood to be treated like a child, and annoyed at Moira’s treatment of her father, anyway.

  Something in Moira winced at having her own words reflected back at her in that way, but she brushed it aside quickly. “All right,” she told Alex coolly, “then as a partner, I have to say that there’s no way of knowing how useful you’d be. We don’t completely understand how this power of yours works. So far, you’ve had the visions only infrequently, and only when it comes to things the Xorda are about to do. People they’re about to attack. So you’d be of limited use against the Xorda, and maybe none at all against human criminals.”

  “Still a few lives you wouldn’t save otherwise, right?” Alex asked bluntly, not backing down.

  Moira hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah,” she conceded, “it would. Why do you care so much about this?”

  Alex took a breath to think about her answer. And then: “My friend Tyler used to have a saying. ‘With great power, comes great responsibility.’ I think he got it from a book somewhere or something, I dunno,” Alex shook her head. “Anyway, I feel like – like this is my responsibility. Like it’s what I need to be doing.”

  The words touched something in Moira. Perhaps it was a sense of common purpose, since she’d had a similar feeling when she’d joined the FBI after Ian’s death – that it was where she needed to be, and what she needed to be doing. She smiled at Alex with the first trace of real warmth she’d shown since immediately after they’d helped her fight Andy. “I’ll talk to your Dad about it,” she promised the girl, “after we finish this thing with Vertigo.”

  --

  As Moira said those words, Alex had to resist the urge to jump up and down. Inwardly, Alex crowed with delight, but that was the only celebration she allowed herself. Moira was good at projecting an impassive exterior, but so had Ainsling been. Alex had a lifetime of practice reading emotion in emotionless faces, and thus she knew even as Moira spoke that she had won.