Rescue Mission

by Linda Jordan

  It all seemed like magic to Damon. Then again, magic was very real in this day and age. He nodded to Jeffries to go ahead and do his work.

  Jeffries wheeled his cart up next to the one holding the canvas.

  The delegation were conferring via conference call with their superiors.

  Morrigu just stood at a distance watching Jeffries.

  “What else do we have on for today?” she asked.

  “Roosevelt wants a meeting,” said Damon

  “We have nothing to talk about,” she said, then snorted.

  “He asked. Again.”

  “What does he want?”

  “He wouldn’t tell me.”

  “What do you think he wants?”

  “He sounded anxious. As if it was important. Maybe something has come up.”

  “Like what?” asked Morrigu, turning her green eyes on him. Not emerald green, more stormy green sea.

  “I don’t have any intel. We lost our only plant in his organization. Haven’t been able to get anyone else in close enough.”

  She nodded.

  “He isn’t working with the pirates, is he? Did he steal my painting?”

  “I don’t think his reach is that far,” said Damon.

  After a time the delegation came over and the woman said, “Fine Art and Antiques will authorize the transaction.”

  “Which means they’ll recover the Picasso, get it to me, and include the Monet. For no extra cost,” said Morrigu. “Provided the Monet is authentic.”

  “Yes,” said the woman. But she didn’t look happy about it.

  It took a few more minutes before Jeffries said, “It is an authentic Monet.”

  “Good,” said Morrigu. “You can take it to the vault.”

  Jeffries wheeled the painting out, leaving his cart behind.

  “Pleasure doing business with you,” said Morrigu, holding up her right hand.

  “The same,” said the woman, holding up her right hand in agreement.

  “I will have the rest of the payment ready for when the Picasso arrives.”

  The woman opened her mouth, then shut it. What Morrigu demanded wasn’t unreasonable, given that they’d lost the painting.

  The three of them bowed and then left the room.

  “That went well. Although I won’t be happy until that Picasso is in my hands. Who knows if they’ll ever find it. Damn pirates.”

  “What shall I tell Roosevelt?” Damon asked.

  “Tell him he can come here. I’m very busy right now. He’s welcome to bring one unarmed bodyguard. No one else. And get Santoni here for that meeting.”

  “Will do,” said Damon.

  Santoni was Morrigu’s sorcerer. He was a magical bodyguard. If Roosevelt could only bring an unarmed bodyguard, then he’d bring his new sorcerer. Damon hadn’t met her. Another unknown thing which made his senses feel twitchy.

  “Anything else?” asked Damon.

  “No. Go ahead and contact him. Let me know what time the meeting is. I’m going to contact our clients and tell them the painting has been stolen. See what they want to do.”

  She left the room and Damon returned Roosevelt’s assistant’s call.

  They set up a meeting for 2 p.m.

  Roosevelt and Morrigu met about once a year. To renew their peace contract. And make decisions about the Zoo in general. It was usually planned long in advance. This was different. It made Damon twitchy. He let Santoni know about the meeting. And scheduled five extra bodyguards, putting everyone else on alert for the next twenty-four hours.

  Damon went on about his day. Checking that everyone was where they were supposed to be and things were getting done. He checked that shipments of jewelry and art were moving. And gasoline. Morrigu and Roosevelt shared the gas and oil business. Roosevelt had the wine, beer and other alcohol concessions, Morrigu moved jewelry and art. Their profits were roughly equal and kept that way, which was why they had yearly meetings. Over the years they had grown to know each other’s strengths and weaknesses. Neither of them were liars. On that basis their partnership was formed.

  Damon rubbed his eyes. He hadn’t slept the night before. Something was wrong. He didn’t have a great deal of magic, just enough to sense things. His intuition told him that the Zoo was out of balance. He guessed that Roosevelt could explain why. He hoped so. Not knowing what was wrong felt annoying. Damon liked things to run in an orderly manner. Which they rarely did. Still, he could dream.

  He made the rounds again. Checking the two warehouses for shipping. Then checking the kitchen. During which he grabbed three warm cookies which would suffice for lunch. He passed through all the main rooms in Morrigu’s “palace”, as she called it.

  Spring was coming, but the weather felt cold and even the rain had a bite to it. All his old wounds ached. He’d once been Morrigu’s bodyguard. Before he’d grown too old. Back then, James had been her advisor. He’d trained Damon to take over the job. Decided Damon had the personality and organizational skills to do the job. Then James died. Cancer.

  The damn disease was over a million years old and still there was no cure. And with the intellectual decline of the world, it might be a million more years before scientists came up with one. At least things were moving forward again. Humanity had survived, but the world was still too unstable.

  It was time.

  Damon went to the entrance to make sure guards were in place. Then checked Morrigu’s audience chamber again. Santoni and two other bodyguards were waiting. Morrigu came in and sat on her throne.

  She told one of the staff, “Please get us some coffee and pastries.”

  The young woman left for the kitchen.

  Damon returned to the entrance to wait for Roosevelt and make sure things went as planned.

  3

  Evangeline

  Evangeline followed Roosevelt through the pouring rain to the entrance of Morrigu’s warehouse. An extraordinarily large contingent of crows took flight. Diving at them and cawing angrily. She could feel their combined hatred of intruders.

  Roosevelt hurried inside the sliding door and she followed him. Evangeline shook off her gold and green embroidered cloak once inside.

  Evangeline hated the rain. Hated this part of the country. Where she came from rain gave life, here it just drowned everything. Roosevelt might not be paying her enough to be here. She’d only been in his employment for a few months now.

  One of Morrigu’s staff took her cloak and Roosevelt’s leather jacket. This left her wearing black leggings and a loose gold shirt that shimmered in the dim light. And her black leather boots. Evangeline’s long black hair was elaborately braided and the braids tied into one mass, out of her way.

  Her gold necklace contained black seeds that would pop open as incendiary devices. Each one a small bomb. Those might not be necessary either, but were always good to have on hand.

  No one searched her, so she dropped the glamour that hid the small pistol beneath her loose shirt. She didn’t think she’d need the pistol. The gold shirt glimmered and shifted, all on its own, making a beautiful contrast to her dark black skin. Not blue-black like Roosevelt, but much darker than the white guy who took her cloak. Her whole life, she was always the darkest person in the room. She was used to it and dressed to play that up. Often in white, which always made a great contrast when blood was drawn.

  They walked farther inside. Evangeline had to hand it to Morrigu. On the inside the place didn’t look like a warehouse. The interior walls of the entryway looked like stonework. The next room had walls hung with rich tapestries with fancy, expensive art. Much of it authentic, Roosevelt had told her, and by old masters.

  Why were they always old masters? Where were the paintings by women? Probably unpainted or uncredited. Women always got stomped on in this world. Since history had begun to be written down.

  It was time for a change. Pity she had to do it through a man.

  At the end of the room, Morrigu and her sorcerer, Santoni, stood by several upholstered
chairs arranged in a circle, around a low table. So, the goddess envisioned this as a casual business meeting. Fool. Had she thought Roosevelt wouldn’t find out about her spy?

  Roosevelt greeted Morrigu, bowing. Evangeline followed his example, out of curtesy.

  Morrigu and Roosevelt sat across the table from each other. Santoni had not taken his eyes off either Roosevelt or herself since they entered the room. He sat in the chair next to Morrigu. Evangeline remained standing. It made her look out of place in the huge, nearly empty room, but today, she was the unarmed bodyguard. She needed to stand.

  She felt Santoni attempting to search her and focused her attention on the conversation between Roosevelt and Morrigu. Santoni would get nothing from her that she didn’t want to give. From Roosevelt either.

  Evangeline knew Santoni was rumored to be powerful. He was tenacious, but unimaginative. She was much stronger. She was a jaguar, standing camouflaged in plain sight. Ready to spring, if necessary.

  Roosevelt said, “I hear you are very busy today,” in his melodic voice.

  Morrigu said, “I am. Meeting after meeting, after meeting. I had problems with an art shipment and the company sent people out to negotiate. That was rather dull. So now I have to go over to the Eastside and meet with my buyers. Offer them something else. They’re not going to be happy. And I need to search out a new opal supplier for a customer who’s discovered a sudden passion for opals.”

  Roosevelt said nothing.

  “Why did you want to meet?” she asked.

  “I want to discuss the terms of our agreement,” he said, in a calm voice.

  Morrigu looked momentarily shocked, then covered it with a look of concern. “What about them?”

  “Things that were once fair and equitable, are no longer.”

  “What things?”

  “There are others who are providing fine alcohol, and drugs, to the Eastside. Their business is growing and mine shrinks. I do not have the power to drive them out. I am using all my resources to deliver our gas and oil where it’s needed, there’s none left over to fight a war on the Eastside. And the profit from even that is shrinking. People are turning to solar and wind more and more.”

  “Well, when we began our agreement, we always knew gas and oil were on their way out,” said Morrigu.

  “It costs too much to deliver now, and to ship in. It is not worth it.”

  Evangeline frowned. What he wasn’t saying was that Morrigu was not out drumming up more sales. That was her part of the agreement. She’d shifted her attention almost completely to selling art and jewels.

  “Well, then let’s drop it. It’ll mean a cut in income though.”

  “It would allow me to focus on driving my competition out of business. I need to lean on them more.”

  “Do your competitors have armies?”

  “Everyone on the Eastside has armies. I must bulk up my own army. Make a base over there before they can grow larger and stronger.”

  Two of Morrigu’s people brought in a tray with food and drink. Coffee was poured and distributed around the table.

  Evangeline didn’t take anything. She was working, but she could smell the delicious aroma. The scent of it made her feel warm in the coolness of the warehouse.

  Santoni took a mug of coffee. Evangeline inwardly sneered at his bodyguard skills. He was stupid. No matter how much magic he had. Then again, he was protecting Morrigu, a goddess. Roosevelt was not a god. She had innate immortality. Roosevelt just had powerful sorcery and very advanced martial skills.

  Morrigu sipped her coffee and set the mug down. She said, “So you want us to shut down the gas and oil business? Freeing you up to strengthen your hold on alcohol?”

  “Yes, but more than that. I want us to combine all our business. The profits and the losses. The alcohol side is going to sustain heavy losses over the next few years, as it does when one begins a war. Once the competition’s gone, it will become even more profitable.”

  Morrigu looked shocked.

  It was a ballsy move. Asking Morrigu to finance his war and split her profits from selling art and jewels. Evangeline had to admire him for that.

  “I don’t know,” said Morrigu, struggling for words.

  “I want us to be full partners, no secrets, complete transparency.”

  “I don’t work that way,” said Morrigu. “I can’t. I need to have full power to negotiate what I need to, without worrying that someone else won’t like what I’ve done.”

  Evangeline tried to work through what Roosevelt’s game was. He always seemed to have one going. Had he and Morrigu been lovers once? He was making a request that would have gotten him killed in most business circumstances she’d witnessed.

  Roosevelt said, “You would, of course, have full negotiation power. Negotiation is one of your gifts. I’ve watched you work.”

  If that was the case, why wasn’t the goddess turning him down outright? Evangeline knew there must be a relationship beneath the surface that she wasn’t seeing, but couldn’t sense what it was. Had Roosevelt saved Morrigu’s ass once upon a time? Did she owe him?

  A man who looked to be in his late forties, early fifties, entered the room. His brown-gray hair had a buzz cut and he moved like one who kept in shape, but felt the ache of old injuries. Still, there was a presence about him that made her wary. He didn’t have much magic, or perhaps kept it under wraps, but she sensed an enormous amount of power. She didn’t want to tangle with him.

  He came to the circle and bowed.

  “Excuse me,” he said.

  “What is it Damon?” Morrigu asked.

  Then he bent over and whispered something in Morrigu’s ear.

  The goddess’ eyes widened and her mouth dropped open.

  “Those bastards,” she said, clenching her hands. “How dare they?”

  The man straightened, waiting.

  She said to Roosevelt, “The art world too has its interlopers. This morning I was told that a Picasso I was expecting for a client had been stolen. Now I have found out the painting was stolen by one of my own competitors. I don’t know if they’re planning on selling it to my client or someone else. This is outrageous. I shall destroy them.”

  Evangeline watched as the aura of the goddess blazed red-orange. Morrigu rose from the chair and began pacing behind it like a caged jaguar. Roosevelt glanced up at Evangeline and she shook her head slightly as if to say, whatever it is you want to do, don’t. Leave her alone.

  The goddess was one of the most dangerous beings she’d ever met. Evangeline hadn’t often seen that level of rage, but it was always deadly. And the goddess’ control was what frightened her most. That sort of control meant the ability to be deadly accurate when she did kill.

  Evangeline noticed Damon studying her. Gauging her power.

  When Morrigu was the deadly one in the room.

  Evangeline had the feeling he could see right through her. He also hid the amount of power he held. Not giving anything away. The unknown was so much harder to deal with. Evangeline hated working with people like that. There was no way to gauge the enemy’s strength. And he probably was her enemy. Until Roosevelt told her otherwise. He might not be Morrigu’s sorcerer, but he was powerful.

  Even though Evangeline could see his old injuries, she had a feeling he could beat her to a pulp. Despite all her training. She was younger and more flexible. He was older and probably more skilled. He carried a sense of strong physical power, more than someone his size should.

  Roosevelt drank more coffee and ate some of the sweet bread on the table, as did Morrigu’s sorcerer. Damon stood on the other side of the furniture, waiting for Morrigu’s instructions.

  Evangeline just watched the scene.

  Morrigu still paced. Then she’d stop and stare into space. Then move again. Finally, she stopped behind her chair.

  “I don’t know how to get to my enemies,” she said. “They are beyond my reach.”

  “What will you do?” asked Roosevelt.

&n
bsp; “I must travel. Go to them.”

  “Where are they?” he asked.

  “New London.”

  Evangeline straightened in surprise.

  Decades ago, London had been moved. The entire population of the city had moved farther inland, government and many historic buildings, rebuilt from the original stones. Piece by piece. There had been too many quakes and flooding in old London. The entire city had become dysfunctional. And the pandemic had cut the population in half.

  Morrigu must really want revenge, to travel to the other side of the world.

  “Will you lose power if you go there? So close to your old home?”

  Evangeline hadn’t considered that. What happened to deities present in the new world, if they returned to the old world where surely the same deity manifested? Were they at war with each other? Did they merge and become one being? Or was their power doubled somehow?

  “I don’t know,” said Morrigu. “I don’t know if any of my people are in New London.”

  Evangeline’s body began to ache from standing in the same position. She moved ever so slightly. Just enough to keep her muscles alert and ready for action.

  She could smell the coffee and longed for a cup, but she was working. Morrigu’s man still watched her. Taking her measure. Santoni didn’t. He was a smug, self-centered bastard with an ego the size of the planet. Which meant he’d fall soon. Morrigu should have chosen better.

  Roosevelt said, “Can you lure your enemies here?”

  Morrigu turned and stared at him.

  “I don’t know them well enough. I don’t know what I could use to draw them across the world.”

  “And yet, you’re allowing yourself to be drawn there. By strangers.”

  “You’re right. I can’t go there. It’s too dangerous to go so close to where I’m from. There’s sure to be another Morrigu. A stronger one, perhaps. I don’t know what would happen.”

  “Let us lay a trap for them then,” said Roosevelt.

  “How?” asked Morrigu.