The Operative : A Division 13 Story

by Orlando A. Sanchez

  “I do not envy you the headache you will have when you awake,” I whispered into his ear. I parked the gurney next to an ambulance and locked the wheels, making sure he didn’t roll down the ramp.

  His techbrace would flood his system with a medkit and he would recover within minutes. I allowed myself a smile at what his reaction would be and ran back to the Duster. I jumped in, placed my hand on the dashboard, reversing the car the moment the throaty rumble of the engine echoed around me.

  I drove out of the garage and headed across town. I needed to replenish Cait and bring Jude back from the dead. I glanced in the rear-view mirror at his prone body. I couldn’t do this in the car.

  I placed a finger on my techbrace and made a call.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  “ARE YOU INSANE?” Reese answered. “Is this line secure? Did you know there’s an SOS out for you?”

  “Yes, yes, and yes.” I pulled off to the side and parked the Duster. My destination sat a block away, but first I needed supplies for Cait.

  “Turn yourself in, Ronin. The worse they can do is debracing and drop you in Sheol for the rest of your life.”

  “Not an option. I need a dead drop. Cait is running low on medkits and I have a feeling I’m going to need more before this is done.”

  “Before what is done? No. Sauveur has declared you rogue. Do you know what will happen if I help you? I’m hanging up.”

  “Division 13 is compromised, Reese,” I said quickly. “A group named Tigris is behind this. What matters is that there are women and children about to be sold to supernaturals. I need to stop them. Help me.”

  “Goddammit, Ronin. There’s a techbrace recovery cache in the park near West 86th. The code is crimson dawn. Excavation time is five a.m. sharp, not a minute after. I can’t help you more than that. Don’t call me again.”

  He hung up. Reese’s geocaches not only required a techbrace code, but also a specific time. From what Luca told me, he had the entire five boroughs peppered with his dead drops filled with money, tech, and weapons.

  Recovery caches were a little harder to create. They provided full upgrades for techbraces, including tools for field repair and replenishment of inventory. Those caches were harder to locate and were reserved for senior operatives.

  I needed to find somewhere to bring Jude back. Division 13 had safe houses, none of which were available to me now. I had to use a dark contact who didn’t want to immediately kill me, so that meant going to a place the Division wouldn’t expect.

  I placed another call.

  “You’re still alive. Did you tell Roxanne I helped you?”

  “Yes and she still hates you. She has a good memory.”

  “I’m impressed she didn’t blast you on the spot. Maybe she’s growing soft in her old age.”

  “Honor, I need you to call Hybrid and get me in. Just for the night.”

  “Hybrid? Are you sure? This is dicier than the Beach. Are you trying to get killed?”

  “It’s the only place Luca and Paul won’t look for me.”

  “Perhaps because it’s suicide to go in there even for Division 13 operatives?”

  “No choice, I don’t have many options and I need a safe place to revive my partner where I won’t be ambushed by Bloodhounds.”

  “Come back here. We can take care of him.”

  “Thanks, but no. I’ve caused you enough difficulty. Can you make the call?”

  “I’ll make the call. Any particular words you would like me to include in the eulogy at your funeral? ‘He was a brave and courageous idiot’ sounds about right.”

  “Droll. Just make the call.”

  “Give me ten minutes.” He hung up.

  Hybrid was an exclusive hotel run by Pollux, a semi-immortal demigod and his brother, Castor. Located at 1 East 60th Street, Hybrid purchased the property that had belonged to the Metropolitan Club several decades ago and converted the private social club into a private hotel.

  A few years back, Division 13 investigated Pollux and Hybrid for illicit runic drug trafficking. Nothing was ever proven, but we interrupted business at Hybrid for nearly six months. As lead investigator, I earned their ill will. Pollux promised to repay my intrusion one day. I just hoped today wasn’t that day.

  The hotel had two wings, the larger one for normals, and a smaller, more secure one for demigods. I had been banned from both. Designed as an impenetrable fortress, Hybrid served an exclusive and select clientele who valued privacy above all else. Getting a reservation was nearly impossible even when you had divine blood coursing through your veins.

  Pollux approved all of the reservations. You didn’t get in unless he allowed you in. It was the perfect place to avoid Division 13 and bring the rookie back to life. Provided Pollux didn’t kill me first.

  Ten minutes later, I called Honor.

  “He agreed. One night only.”

  “How did you get him to do that?” I asked, shocked. I fully expected to have to attempt Jude’s revival in the car.

  “There’s only one way to deal with demigods.”

  “Overwhelming force?”

  I could almost hear the shake of his head. “Barter. Offer them something they can’t refuse.”

  “What…did you offer him?”

  “Access to the lost histories. One night.”

  The lost histories were a restricted area of the Archive. It was said to contain all of the runic historical documents lost to time. It was a treasure trove of information. Honor rarely let anyone in the area, and when he did, it was usually one of the major players like Odin. I knew this because anytime the lost histories were accessed, Division 13 was notified and operatives were present to document the visitor and the information studied.

  It was a method of check and balance and allowed us to keep an eye on any potential world-ending scenarios being planned. Giving Pollux access to the lost histories was an unprecedented favor.

  “Honor…I don’t know what to say.”

  “The words are ‘thank you’ and ‘I won’t cause any trouble in the Hybrid.’”

  “Thank you. I won’t cause any trouble in the Hybrid. They won’t even know I’m there.”

  “If only. The front desk will be waiting for you. If you run into Pollux, be polite and silent.”

  “I can do polite and silent.”

  “Do not screw this up, Ronin. Pollux won’t hesitate to end you. He still remembers your ‘investigation.’”

  “He must really want something from the histories to agree to this.”

  “Knowledge is power. Don’t make me regret this.”

  He hung up.

  I shuddered at the thought of Pollux with access to the histories. The feeling that this would come back to bite me in the ass at some point in the future nagged in the back of my mind.

  I pulled up to the front of Hybrid. A valet with a wheelchair walked up to the car and helped me transfer Jude from the Duster. He wheeled in Jude ahead of me. Another valet waited by the Duster. I reached in, placed a hand on the dashboard, and pressed a few buttons to switch the Duster to valet mode.

  I handed the valet the keys and watched the Duster head to the underground garage. The valet with Jude waited for me by the door and together we entered the Hybrid.

  TWENTY-SIX

  THE OLDER WOMAN at the front desk gave Jude a cursory glance and then focused on me. Her nametag read Erin F. Uries and she gave me a tight smile when I stepped close to the large desk. Her brown eyes glimmered violet for moment.

  “Name, please?” She looked down at the monitor in front of her.

  “Ronin—Mark Ronin.”

  She tapped some keys, keeping her eyes on the monitor.

  “Welcome to the Hybrid, Mr. Ronin.” She tapped a few more keys and produced a keycard from under the desk. “Room 707.”

  “Thank you. Same house rules?”

  She nodded and stared at me. “No business will be conducted on the premises. Would you like to use our hotel safe to store your firearms?” />
  “No, thank you,” I said and took the card she slid across the counter. “Could you have the evening meal sent up to the room?”

  “I’ll have it sent up straight away. The valet will escort you to your room. Enjoy your stay.” She ended our interaction with a curt nod and attended to the next guest.

  The Hybrid had kept the original lobby of the Metropolitan Club when they acquired the property. A grand double staircase led to an arcade on the second level overlooking the reception area. A large, rust colored, Bokhara Persian rug dominated the center of the floor.

  Spaced evenly around the rug were clusters of wingbacks grouped in threes, providing little capsules of privacy for some of the guests. The impressive wood ceiling fit right in with the abundant use of gold-leaf and marble. The only word that fit the building was palatial.

  It whispered old money and extravagance and I was sure J.P. Morgan would be proud to see it had been maintained in the same condition as the Hybrid. Opposite the grand staircase, a marble fireplace large enough to burn a small forest held a small fire.

  The valet wheeled Jude across the lobby and past the fireplace on his way to the elevators at the other end. I followed in his wake.

  “Hello, Ronin,” said a distinctly female voice.

  I almost reached for Thorn and then remembered that would get me ejected from the hotel in the most painful way possible. I didn’t see Pollux, but I was certain he was waiting for an excuse. I looked at the nearest cluster of wingbacks and saw her. She sat there drinking what I hoped was a mixture of cyanide and arsenic.

  It was Delilah.

  “I’ll be up right away,” I said to the valet and handed him a large bill. “Can you make sure he’s comfortable when you put him in the room?”

  Even though Jude appeared to be deceased, the Cerberin slowed down every process to simulate death. He was in no apparent danger, but I didn’t want to risk leaving him in that state for too long.

  The valet palmed the bill deftly, nodded, and wheeled Jude away. I made my way to the wingback opposite Delilah. Her black hair was cut short. She wore a black dragonscale pantsuit with a crème top in what could only be described as combat casual couture. Her face remained unchanged from the last time we had spoken. High cheekbones and a sharp angular jawline rested under a pair of piercing dark eyes that looked right through me.

  “You’re looking good for a corpse,” I managed as I sat back in the expansive wingback. “Death suits you.”

  “Reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated. Your partner, however, looks positively terminal.”

  “He’s had a bad day. What do you want?”

  “I’m here to help you stay alive. Bruce told me you wanted to have a chat. Shame about his club.”

  “I’m sure Tigris can cover the renovation costs.”

  “That we can.”

  “Where are they? The women and children?”

  She waved my words away and took a sip of her drink, never taking her eyes off me.

  “You’re just like me.”

  “I’m nothing like you.”

  “Of course you are,” she said with an edge and set her glass down on the small table next to her. “Division to the core. Until they blow you up in a car.”

  “I only kill when necessary and I forget, what’s your nickname again?”

  “Fuck you very much. Your hands are just as bloody as mine—bloodier even.”

  “I don’t sell humans to supernaturals.”

  “What do you think the Division does?”

  “We don’t go around selling humans.”

  “I used to be that naïve once. Why don’t you join me? Tigris has no delusions about its purpose.”

  “Twisted as it may be, pass.”

  “Righteousness doesn’t suit you. Division 13 is involved in worse. Those humans you’re so worried about? They were living on the streets. Abandoned and forgotten.”

  “So that makes it right?”

  “With us you could do some real good in the world instead of pretending to police those who would discard you without a second thought.”

  “No. Division 13 is flawed, but we don’t believe our own press. Tigris treats humans like a resource, a commodity.

  She shook her head. “They are. You just haven’t realized it yet.”

  “And that is why I’ll never be part of Tigris.”

  “What’s their alternative? A life of slavery? Living on the streets before starvation or some creature claimed them? I’m giving them a chance at a better life.”

  “By selling them to supernaturals?”

  “Who will clothe, house, and take care of them.”

  “Like good pets,” I said, my words hard. “You’re using Cerberin to fake their deaths. Took me a while to figure out a bypass to the runic sensors.”

  The hardened look and flexed muscles of her jaw told me I was right. “Clever. That information won’t help you find them in time.”

  “I’ll find them and stop you and Tigris.”

  “Tell me, how long before you’re me? Running for your life, disavowed with an SOS hanging over your head?”

  I winced at her words.

  “Wait…it’s happened, hasn’t it?”

  I didn’t answer for a few seconds.

  “You caused this.”

  “How did you like your conversation with Bruce? Our tech is so cutting edge it’ll make you bleed.”

  “Bitch.”

  She laughed. “I’ll take that as a compliment, coming from you.”

  “Clearly you didn’t get enough hugs as a child. Why don’t you let me help you? I hear bullet therapy works wonders.”

  “Help me? You can’t help yourself.”

  “I’m still going to stop you.”

  “No. You’re not. Tigris dwarfs the Division. We’re better funded, better equipped, and better organized. You and the Division are outclassed, but it’s not you and the Division, is it? It’s just you and they aren’t looking for me. They think I’m dead, except maybe for Luca.”

  I made to reach for Thorn when a hand rested on my shoulder.

  “Good evening. Mr. Ronin. For your own safety, I would recommend against that course of action inside the Hybrid.”

  It was Castor.

  He was dressed in his signature gray suit and managed to look as if he had just left a photo shoot for the latest men’s magazine. His gray hair was carefully cut and coiffed and he looked down at me with a mixture of amusement and disapproval.

  I breathed a short sigh of relief. Pollux, who always wore black, wouldn’t have placed a hand on my shoulder unless it was for leverage to rip my arm out of its socket before he bludgeoned me.

  Delilah stood, finished her drink, and looked at me with a smile. “I have a shipment to expedite. I really enjoyed our talk. Last chance, what will it be? Do you stand with us or against us? Division 13 is finished. They just don’t know it yet.”

  “I’d love to give you my answer.” I glanced up at Castor. “But we’re in the Hybrid and they frown upon disposing of trash in their lobby. Ask me again next time I see you.”

  “Against us, then,” she said with a nod. “I do look forward seeing you again. However brief that will be. Give Luca the Lapdog my regards. Evening, Cas.”

  “Miss,” he said with a short nod.

  She placed a hand on my cheek, causing me to pull away. Laughing at my reaction, she left the Hybrid.

  Castor sat in the chair opposite me. “What part of ‘no business conducted on the premises of the Hybrid’ is difficult for you to comprehend? Are you looking to die?”

  “Not today, no.”

  “Do you know what would’ve happened if it had been my brother instead of me?”

  “I’d be having a different kind of conversation. One that involved pain, mostly mine.”

  Castor nodded and steepled his fingers.

  “Please, go to your room, stay in your room, and tend to your friend. I expect an uneventful evening.”

 
“At least one of us does. What time is checkout?”

  “Your check out is at dawn. To optimize your stay with us, I would advise checking out earlier.

  “Thank you,” I said as he stood and walked away.

  He had just warned me to leave before it was too late.

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  CASTOR WAS RIGHT of course. I was acting like a suicidal rookie and let Delilah push my buttons. Staying until dawn would guarantee my early retirement, from life. I had to get the rookie back on his feet and out of the Hybrid.

  Even though I didn’t manage to stop Delilah, our brief conversation gave me some answers. If they could hack a techbrace, Tigris tech was lightyears ahead of the Division. More importantly, the women and children were still in the country. Arrogance and ignorance often went hand in hand.

  I rode the elevator to the seventh floor, found my room, and swept it with Cait. No listening devices—at least none I could detect with my techbrace. Jude lay on the bed while I made quick work of the dinner.

  I needed him up and functional before the morning. I patted the inner pocket of my jacket and located the vial Roxanne had given me. I poured its contents into his mouth, careful not to spill any.

  He groaned back to life about ten minutes later.

  “Oh, my god, just kill me.” He grabbed his head and groaned again. “What happened?”

  “A building fell on you.” I removed Thorn from my holster and placed the spare SD9 on a table next to the bed. “What do you remember?”

  “We were running out of the Abyss and then the building started collapsing in on us.”

  “Let me bring you up to speed.” I filled in the rest of the day for him and he just stared at me.

  “Are you saying the Division is after me now?”

  He was clearly agitated, which I expected. Being mostly dead will do that to a person.

  “Technically they’re after me, but since I liberated you from Haven—”

  “Liberated? You’ve made me an accessory after the fact. Are you insane?”

  “You want to remain calm.” I raised a hand. “Roxanne said you may have some nasty side effects to the—”