by TR Cameron
They chose AR-15s and Sig-Sauer pistols instead of the more identifiable BAM gear and hid their unique vests under their clothes. It left them less well-equipped than their regular choices but was still adequate for the level-two and -three crooks they rounded up to deliver to the Pittsburgh police. By the end of the week, they had caught four, and Tony had improved his connections in the city in the process of tracking them down. Only one had been captured in a public place, and Diana had simply snuck up from behind to stun him with a taser rather than making a scene.
Rath had fully recovered but had yet to go back to his more rigorous training regimen. Some days were spent at home with Max, while others were spent with Diana at the office. He seemed more tired than usual and didn’t show any real inclination to train. She assumed it had something to do with his healing process and that he’d let her know if it was anything serious.
Ha. Maybe he’s found a new movie series. He loves his binge-watching.
Still, he professed to be excited for the night out they had planned. She weaved the Stingray through narrow back streets. Instinct guided her unerringly toward their destination, a restaurant in one of the city’s up-and-coming neighborhoods that boasted the best burgers in town. “We’ll be the judges of that,” Cara had replied when Diana suggested it, and they all agreed such a bold statement required verification.
She backed the car into a convenient parking space against the curb and threw the keys into her purse. Rath unclipped from his booster seat in the back, having decided on his three-foot size for the evening’s activities. He wore a T-shirt they’d found in the local comic shop with the logo of a band from the 1980s on it. When the troll had chosen it, Diana had immediately approved. “You can’t go wrong with the Sisters of Mercy.”
She had worried about Rath’s visibility but decided that if ever a place to feel comfortable wandering through crowds with him existed, the gallery crawl was it. The monthly event attracted the artistic and art-appreciative to the borough streets. The prohibited traffic and permitted open-air entertainment created an atmosphere of jovial acceptance. The early March night was unseasonably warm, which seemed to have everyone in a good mood, judging by the throngs they passed on the way to the restaurant.
When they pushed through the door, they found the others already seated in a booth. Rath slid in beside Tony, and Diana sat on the end across from Cara. Drinks materialized before them, delivered without a word by a harried server with a septum piercing and dark beard. Diana tasted hers and looked at Rath with a grin. “Is good. Must drink.”
The whole table laughed, and the troll inclined his head in regal acknowledgment. Their waiter spun past again, they ordered, and he dashed away. A warm evening apparently meant great business. The rectangle of seats around the fancy bar in the center was completely filled, and the booths on the periphery were likewise occupied. A line had formed beyond the entrance. Diana asked, “How long did you have to wait?”
Tony shrugged. “I got here about fifteen minutes early, and we only had another five after Cara arrived.”
The other woman nodded. “It’s a nice night for standing outside, though.”
He laughed. “Enjoy it while you can. Pittsburgh’s weather is the weirdest. And that’s saying a lot, given that I’ve spent the last year in Cleveland.”
Cara grinned and sipped the colorful cocktail she’d ordered. “You know the city best, Tony. Tell us something about it.”
He lowered his Guinness from his lips and banished the foam from his mustache with a swipe of his tongue. “Okay, here's a good one. So, when I first arrived here and hadn't learned the town yet, I got a call to an area called Blawnox. Or, as they pronounce it here, Blah-nax.”
Diana sputtered into her drink at his impersonation of the Pittsburgh accent. It made him seem unconcerned with pretense. An oversimplification, no doubt, but she liked the idea.
“Anyway, we arrived, and two guys yelled at each other on the street. A big guy, the bodybuilder type, sat on the hood of his beat-up car, which he'd stopped right in the middle of the road between parked cars on either side. The other scrawny older dude sat on a folding chair in an otherwise empty parking space.”
Diana shook her head. She'd been warned about this particular Pittsburgh idiosyncrasy early on. Tony continued, “It turns out, in this town, a chair in a parking spot means it belongs to the house nearest it. It’s not only a reservation. No, these people view it as a sacred tradition. To the man in the chair, the guy in the car essentially demanded to park in his living room.”
They laughed, Cara more incredulously than the rest. “So, how did it turn out?” she asked.
“When I showed up, both men shrugged and claimed to be having a conversation. A conversation audible from down the block, apparently, since we were called in—and which included many colorful words—but a conversation, nonetheless. We told car guy to shove off and park somewhere else, and he did it without further protest like he simply needed to be heard or something. The person in the chair then offered us beers and invited us to stay.”
They all laughed again, and Diana shook her head. “It’s a unique place, to be sure.”
Tony nodded. “And that’s only the start. There are a hundred stories like that.”
Their food arrived, and they spent the next minutes in silent appreciation. When they’d all eaten at least half of their meals, Cara finally broke the comfortable silence. “Okay, I’m buying it. This is the best barbecue burger I’ve ever had. And that’s saying something since Fort Benning had its share.”
He grinned. “I agree. Best in town.”
Diana rocked her hand. “It’s not the best bacon and bleu ever, but it’s up there.” Tony threw a napkin at her, and she caught it. She laughed as she whipped it back at his face, then turned to Rath. “Opinion?”
He looked up from where he munched happily on mozzarella sticks, dipping them in three different sauces in rotation—marinara, cheese, and gravy. Diana’s stomach twisted a little at the combination. “Is good. Must eat.”
They finished the meal with more conversation and laughter, then emerged and turned left down the avenue.
I think this is the most relaxed all of us have ever been together. We’ll need to make this a tradition.
Small businesses lined the block on either side. The food and drink sellers had positioned portable counters at the edge of glass garage doors that served as the fronts for the restaurants when closed but were now open thanks to the good weather and happy crowds. Several bars had the same arrangement. Galleries were interspersed among them, some with multiple styles of art and others dedicated to one specific type.
They wandered through the entrance of the photography gallery and held up the admission bracelets they’d purchased at the restaurant. The exhibit featured candid shots of everyday people, and they took turns to make up stories about the characters in them. By the time they’d worked their way around the displays, the tales had grown truly outlandish. Cara claimed the last was a space vampire, and Tony groaned. “There’s no such thing.”
Diana grinned. “Don’t be so sure. What about Area Fifty-one?”
He rolled his eyes. “Unless you’re telling me that ARES runs Area Fifty-one and you’ve been there and seen stuff in person, I call shenanigans on you.”
They passed through a gallery devoted to paintings and another filled with modern sculpture. Diana feared the latter, as Rath seemed very interested in some pieces and spent much of the time hopping up to see the ones that towered above his height from a better perspective. She needn’t have worried. His agility was remarkable.
Hell, he could probably jump from the top of one piece to the next without knocking them off their pedestals.
As they walked down the center of the street, surrounded by diverse folks engaged in their own conversations, laughter, and the pleasant spring atmosphere, she realized that the town was growing on her. It felt surprisingly like home, the same way Colorado Springs and DC had.
Now, if I could only convince Lisa to get her ass up here, everything would be perfect.
A tiny part of her brain added, “and Kayleigh,” but she shushed it. Tonight was for fun, not work.
Rath fell in love the moment they entered the comic book art gallery. The walls held oversized pages, and the space was arranged in a labyrinth to create the most available wall surfaces for them. Each corridor displayed a single story, with covers and back material at the start and finish. The first contained a superhero book, and he was clearly interested but not necessarily excited. The second and third shared tales of samurai and Shaolin monks.
The samurai called to the troll, judging by the way he bounced up and down to get a better view of the panels. The monks, though, entranced him. Rath stared without moving for long stretches. The only sign of consciousness was the occasional swivel of his head and a sidestep to a new panel. He studied the panels with the intensity of one determined to memorize every detail.
By the time they reached the end, his posture subtly imitated some of the positions the monks had used in the comic’s combat scenes. Diana guessed the troll was so wrapped up in the experience that he didn’t even notice. The final corridor showed a tale of espionage drawn in the noir style. While the content clearly failed to engage him as much, he admitted to liking the drawing when she asked.
Diana’s heart swelled to see him so happy. “I guess we’ll have to spend more money at the comic book store, huh, Rath?”
He nodded. “Take out my paycheck.”
She immediately laughed, one echoed by the other humans in the little group. “Will do, Rath.”
It had been an almost perfect evening, she mused as she emerged onto the street a step behind the others. Her phone buzzed, and she raised it to see a text from Bryant that contained only three words and a link.
Check the news.
Dread seeped into her as she clicked the link. After a short delay, a video from one of the local stations appeared. It showed a tall man with thin hawkish features and perfectly groomed hair. The banner at the bottom proclaimed him to be a lawyer named Stuart Young. His angry words assailed her ears a moment later.
“The officials of the city of Pittsburgh have not been honest with us. We didn’t want the first prison, so they hid the construction of the second. Worse, the new prison is not a regular Ultramax. It’s for magicals as well. They have already begun to send the worst of the worst here, which makes the city less safe. Less safe for our workers, less safe for our students, less safe for our senior citizens, and most concerning, less safe for our children. I call upon the community to join me in protest.”
She sighed.
Dammit. There goes the neighborhood.
Chapter Eighteen
Diana stared out at the river from a private office on the fifth floor when Bryant arrived. She turned and waved him toward the conference room. The coffeemaker had already done its thing, and he prepared two mugs while she sat at the table with a sigh. He slid one across as he lowered himself into the chair opposite her. “So, how about that news?”
She chuckled darkly. “You are a serious buzzkill, do you know that? I had a really great night before you got involved. You owe me.”
“It ruined my evening, too. I’ve set up alerts for all our potential offices, and that one popped up as a story everywhere there’s an Ultramax. I wouldn’t be surprised to see national coverage today.”
Diana shook her head. “It seems like it would take a leak from the inside to have that much information.”
Bryant took a sip, then returned his mug to the table. “I asked the warden about that.” All traces of mirth had left his face. “She says one of the guards is missing. Surveillance showed him going into his house and never coming out. When he missed a shift and they went to check, the place was empty.”
“So, magic?”
“It seems like it. Or some fancy technology that defeated both the drones and the interior security system.”
Diana drummed her fingers in irritation. “Is there anything we can do about it?”
He shrugged. “I’ve told Warden Murphy she has my full support, whatever she needs. She says it’s under control. Her history suggests betting against her isn’t usually a great choice.”
She rose and crossed to stare out at the water again. The sense of escalating danger wouldn’t allow her to stay still.
I should schedule training. The rest of the team might feel the same way.
“Have we discovered what they were after at the museum?”
Bryant joined her with his coffee mug in hand and stared off into the distance. “Nope. The curator found several artifacts missing from a shipment they had just received—a new tomb unearthed in Egypt, he said. They hadn’t identified any of the items as magic, but they also don’t have a permanent magical on staff.” Diana turned with a questioning look, and he shrugged. “Budget problems, same as everyone. They have a wizard on retainer, but he’s abroad at the moment. He was scheduled to come in next week after they’d done the initial cataloging to prepare for it.”
Her words emerged in a growl. “Our enemies seem very well informed.”
“No argument, there. Secrecy is a difficult thing with all the technologies and magics that have risen to threaten it. At some point, you have to quit worrying about whether every buzzing noise is one of those techno-magic surveillance insects and merely live your life.”
She turned to face him and leaned against the window. “Did we manage to ID the three who escaped?”
He shook his head. “They destroyed the security room on their way down, so there are no recordings. But even if there were, there’s no guarantee they’re in the system. They seem too sophisticated to have been caught before. We identified a number of the others, but nothing’s led anywhere useful yet.”
Diana thought back to the interview at the Cube. “But we think it's the Remembrance, right?”
“It’s the smartest move to assume so. Since we know the group is active here and interested in acquiring magical artifacts—like the followers of Rhazdon before them—it seems likely.”
She returned to the table, sat on its edge, and took a slow sip of her coffee. “So, I’ve been a little too busy to study as hard as I should. Do you want to give me a refresher on Rhazdon?”
Bryant leaned his back against the metal frame of the floor-to-ceiling windows and coughed to clear his throat. “Rhazdon is a figure out of Oriceran history who popped up a couple of different times to cause trouble. The first time, all the records said he was male, and those in charge basically had to fight a war to shut him and his followers down. The second spilled over onto Earth, and we discovered Rhazdon was female.”
Her skepticism slipped her grasp and burst into reality on her face. “That’s a significant mistake.”
“The royal family apparently likes to keep their secrets close. Anyway, she came around at the end to fight with the forces of good, but the damage had already been done. Her legacy lived on and apparently, is still alive today.”
“And what’s that all about?”
Bryant shrugged. “It’s not an atypical story. She and her followers believed that those in charge looked down upon them and that the group's members didn’t have enough power—or, at least, didn’t have the amount of power they deserved.”
“So, your average everyday oppressed revolutionaries?”
“Far from average, but yeah. Their beliefs weren’t entirely without merit, given the centralization of political authority that comes with hereditary monarchies, but still, they took it solidly to heart.”
Diana sighed. “It’s very easy to see oneself as being repressed. That message will resonate with a lot of people, both on Earth and Oriceran, I would imagine.”
He grimaced and nodded agreement. “But what we don’t know is what the ultimate goal is this time around. It seemed clear the other two times—a major power grab, with an understanding that magical ability was the primary determinant
of a person’s value. Now, with this particular branch’s use of mundane humans, and inept ones at that, it seems a little different. Unless they're willing to simply use the non-magicals and plan to cut them out at the end of the plan. That’s always a possibility.”
She set her empty mug on the table. “Were you aware of this group when you chose Pittsburgh?”
Bryant frowned. “We weren’t, which is essentially a problem in itself. Our intelligence should be better than that. No Agency had a line on them, not even the PDA.”
Diana paused while she considered whether she had more to say on the topic, then changed the subject. “Well, I guess it’ll be what it’ll be. Did you get my team’s post-Christmas list?”
He laughed. “Yeah, I did. It made for some entertaining reading. I’ve already argued that headquarters needs to allocate more money and manpower in your direction, so there should be at least a little help forthcoming. But your best route will probably still be to manage it yourself.”
She scowled. “That’s no way to run a railroad, BC.”
“We told you it wouldn't be an easy gig. Didn’t you believe us?”
“Yeah, but I thought the problem would be humans and dragons, not dollars and dimes.”
“Welcome to the big leagues, Sheen. We’ll make a bureaucrat out of you yet.”
She barked a laugh. “No way that’s gonna happen. My place is in the field.”
Bryant nodded. “So’s mine. And look at me now.”
Diana took a moment to do exactly that. His wardrobe had improved since he’d taken the regional SAC job, and if she didn’t miss her guess, tailored suits had replaced the off-the-rack outfits he’d worn in DC. It was a fine outfit with charcoal pinstripes and a deep purple tie atop an eggshell shirt. Her mind wandered, and she pictured the two of them talking like normal people instead of federal agents engaged in life or death situations. She couldn’t help the tug pulling at her mouth as a smile formed on her lips.
