by R S Penney
Leo, that's who.
By instinct, Anna hopped onto the table.
Three men in front of her halted in mid-step, all craning their necks to look at her. “She's the one!” their leader shouted. He was a tall fellow with gray hair and a bushy mustache. “Ignore the other guests.”
Shutting her eyes tight, Anna shook her head. “You boys really should think twice,” she said. “You just attacked a party with not one but two Justice Keepers on the guest list. So, maybe we could sort this out using our indoor voices?”
She was cognizant of the other guests hiding behind the many round tables spread out across the floor and of Jack moving off to her right to get a good angle on the men on that side of the room.
“Kill her,” the leader said.
Standing on the edge of the table, Anna fell backward and toppled the whole thing over on its side with its legs pointed at her enemies. She kicked it with both feet, applying a light touch of Bent Gravity.
The table flew off the floor and crashed into all three men, knocking them back and causing one guy to drop his pistol as he stumbled. The other two were stunned. Hopefully, Jack could handle himself; she had her hands full.
Curling her legs against her chest, Anna sprang off the ground and landed upright. She leaped over the fallen table and charged the man on her left.
He tried to raise his weapon.
Anna flowed past him before he could get his arm up, then turned and grabbed his arm with both hands. A quick twist was all it took to make him drop his gun. Then she whirled him around and sent him stumbling toward Mr. Mustache.
The pair of them collided and toppled to the floor, one lying on top of the other. That left only the one who had lost his pistol. He was crouched down about fifteen feet away, retrieving his weapon.
Anna dove for the nearest gun.
Her hand came down upon it, and then she somersaulted over the carpet, coming up on one knee and extending her arm without even looking, allowing spacial awareness to guide her instead. She fired.
A bullet grazed the man's thigh as he stood up, causing him to squeak and drop his pistol again. He slapped a hand over the wound and hopped on his good leg, cursing as he lost his balance and fell flat on his face.
Anna stood up, clutching the gun.
Baring her teeth, she ran her gaze over the lot of them. “Now,” she said. “It's time for some answers. Why did you attack a wedding?”
The lead guy with his gray mustache looked up at her with stern resolve in his eyes. “We serve the Inzari,” he said.
“We serve the Inzari,” the others echoed.
That can't be good.
As he ran through an aisle between round tables, Jack grabbed a wooden chair with one hand and carried it with his arm stretched out behind himself. Keeper strength made that easy.
The two black-clad men who had moved off to this side of the room were standing with their pistols gripped tightly in both hands, scanning the crowd for movement, One turned his head and spotted Jack.
He turned, raising his gun.
Throwing the chair with all his might, Jack fell backward, landing hard on his ass while bullets rushed through the air above him. The chair slammed into the gun-wielding man before he could adjust his aim, shattering on impact.
Dazed by the hit, the guy lost his balance and fell to the floor, but that still left the other one. The second gunman lifted his weapon and pointed it at Jack.
Jack rolled out of the way just before a bullet hit the spot where he had been lying, positioning himself under a table. With a growl, he grabbed one of the legs, intending to use Bent Gravity, but terror filled his mind and he froze.
What if he misused the power again? Summer was pleading with him, begging him to do something, but the guilt and shame made it difficult to think. God help him; he was going to die here. Luckily this table was large enough to conceal his whole body, but that would only buy him a few seconds.
A bullet ripped through the white cloth that dangled over the side of the table, sped downward and hit the floor mere inches away from Jack's hip. The only thing keeping him alive was the fact that his enemies didn't know his exact position.
Desperation made him do it.
Pressing his hands to the underside of the table, Jack reached out to Summer and crafted a Bending. He lifted the table off the floor and twisted gravity to send it flying at his enemies like a giant battering ram.
Both men dove out of the way, throwing themselves down on their bellies, and the table hit the wall instead. That would buy him a few seconds. Panting, Jack snatched up a fallen fork and stood up.
One of the men was getting to his feet, shaking his head as he tried to clear away the vertigo. “Bloody Keepers…” His eyes fell upon Jack, and then he tried to raise his weapon.
Jack threw the fork.
It flew tip-first and struck the man's forehead with four sharp tines, causing him to yelp and throw his head back. He clapped a hand over the wound.
Jack charged the other one.
The second assassin – that had to be what these guys were – was standing on shaky legs with his pistol in both hands. Squinting as he took aim, he lifted his gun for a clean shot to the chest.
Without thinking, Jack raised a hand and crafted another Bending. Light refracted, transforming his opponent into a smear of black just before a bullet came flying at him. It curved upward and hit the ceiling instead. Another bullet followed it, and then another.
When he got close, Jack let the Bending vanish.
He fell backward, catching himself with one hand, and brought his foot up to kick the gun out of his opponent's grip. The other man danced backward, cursing the sudden jolt of pain.
Snapping himself upright, Jack seized the guy's shirt with both hands. He followed that with a quick headbutt to the face, one that left his opponent stunned. Not that it had done Jack any favours, mind you. Silver stars filled his vision.
Jack flung this guy at his comrade.
One man fell on top of the other, and they both landed sprawled out on the floor, groaning in pain. The one underneath rolled out from under his companion and flopped onto his back.
Rubbing his forehead with the back of one hand, Jack shut his eyes and paused to collect himself. “Stay down,” he ordered the both of them. “I really don't want to have to kick your asses again.”
The other man sat up and stared at Jack with blood streaming over his nose from four pinpricks in his forehead. “We serve the Inzari,” he said. “Your threats mean nothing to us.”
“Jail time might.”
The assassin closed his eyes, and suddenly he spasmed as if an electrical current had rushed through his body. He collapsed to the floor, dead. “What the bloody hell?” Jack exclaimed.
The other one spasmed as well.
“Anna!”
By the look of determination in the man's eyes, Anna knew that something wasn't quite right here. “We serve the Inzari,” Mr. Mustache said. “In all things.”
His body stiffened as though someone had poked him with a stun-baton, and then he fell onto his back. Before she could even speak one word, the others were tensing up for half a second and then passing out.
No…Not passing out.
Dying.
Anna felt her mouth drop open, then shook her head slowly. “Why would you…” The words came out as a soft whisper. Of course, she knew the answer before she could finish voicing the question. “Because you know the location of Leo's base of operations, and you'd rather die than tell me.”
On the far side of the room, her boyfriend stood with his back turned, watching a pair of corpses that were sprawled out on the floor near an overturned table that had crashed into the wall. “Anna!” he called out. “They're going to kill themselves!”
She didn't bother to answer.
With a sharp exhalation, Anna strode across the carpet with the gun in one hand. “Is everyone all right?” she shouted. “Anyone hurt?”
The tw
elve or thirteen guests who had remained popped up from behind the tables where they had taken refuge, many of them blinking or exchanging glances. Mara stood slowly, her face pale as she examined the scene. “Thank you,” she breathed out.
When she got up, Teli was crying and wiping her tears away with the tips of her fingers. “Thank you,” she said, echoing her aunt's sentiments. “Thank you, Leana. They were going to kill us.”
“I don't think you were the target.”
Rising slowly on unstable legs, Tellin drunkenly pointed a finger at her. “No, they were gonna kill you,” he slurred. “Why were they gonna kill you?”
“I wish I knew,” she answered. “Jack, we should call the local PD.”
“On it,” he said.
Finding the strength to be gentle was no easy task, but it didn't matter that she was bone tired. These people were scared; they needed guidance. They needed Anna Lenai to step up. “Everyone sit tight,” she said. “Have a glass of water; try to stay calm. I'm going to need you to stick around for questioning. This place is a crime scene now, and you're all material witnesses.”
Chapter 22
The view from Harry's hotel room window looked westward toward the waterfront, and on this gorgeous summer morning, it was a magnificent sight. The eastward facing sides of each building reflected the sunlight, and the distant water seemed to sparkle.
Too bad it did little to lift his spirits.
Harry sat on the edge of his bed, hunched over and frowning down at the carpet. “Multi-tool active,” he barked. “Place a breakfast order with the kitchen: bacon and eggs with a side of fruit salad.”
The tool beeped.
Behind him, the door opened, and he heard the familiar sounds of Claire's footsteps as she came stomping into the room. His youngest daughter wore dark blue tights and an oversized white t-shirt as she went to look out on the city. “How long before I can go back to school?” she asked unceremoniously.
“I don't know, Claire.”
She spun around to face him with arms folded, lips pressed together as she looked him up and down. “It's not fair, you know,” she said. “You yanked me away from my life back home so that Melissa could be safer here on Leyria. Now, I can't even go to school because some asshole has a vendetta against you.”
“Claire!”
“It's true!”
Using his cane to get to his feet, Harry grimaced and shook his head. “There's no need for that kind of language, young lady,” he said. “But you're right…It's not fair. All I can say is that our friends are working as fast as they can.”
His daughter strode forward and craned her neck to stare at him with those huge brown eyes of hers. “Maybe you haven't noticed, Dad,” she said. “But Leyria isn't really much safer than Earth was.”
Now, that was an emotional gut-punch if ever he'd felt one. And the fact that Harry couldn't really argue with her only made it that much worse. What was he supposed to say? Any platitude he could offer about how it wasn't as bad as Claire seemed to think would be immediately contradicted by the fact that he was currently recovering from a gunshot wound inflicted by a fallen Keeper.
“I'm tired of it,” Claire said.
“Tired of what?”
“Of you ruining my life!” she screamed. “You're the reason for all of it, Dad. You started working with aliens – without telling anybody – and then more aliens found us. Some piece of shit terrorist comes to Ottawa, and I get shipped off to Alberta. Then I get dragged to another planet, and I can't even have a life there because you keep on getting involved with these people. I'm living in a hotel because of that same terrorist. Or maybe you'll just leave me with Jack again!”
By the end of her tirade, Claire was sobbing, and Harry was…dumbstruck. What could he say to that? The impulse to lecture her about her language was easy to ignore this time. She was too distraught.
It was the logic of a young child: the tendency to reduce everything to simple cause and effect, to find a target you could blame for everything that had gone wrong. It was the logic of a child, but Claire was a child, and forcing her into this situation was not fair. Not by any stretch of the imagination.
Harry dropped to one knee, spreading his arms wide for a hug. Thankfully, his child accepted the invitation. Claire threw her arms around him, bringing a flare of pain when she hugged him a little too tight. “I'm sorry,” he said.
“We have to do something.”
“Do you want to go back home with your mom?”
“So someone can blow me up there?”
Harry squeezed his eyes shut, a single tear running over one cheek. “No one's going to blow you up, Claire,” he said hoarsely. “But maybe you're right. Maybe it's time I got away from all this.”
When Claire stepped out of his embrace, her cheeks were glistening, her eyes raw and red. “I'm tired of being afraid,” she said. “I'm tired of feeling like today might be the day I lose my dad.”
She turned away and shuffled around the foot of the bed to the door that led to her adjoining room. “I'm gonna order some breakfast,” she said. “Let me know when I can start living my life again.”
“They just attacked and killed themselves?”
Warm sunlight through the window in Larani's office fell upon Anna who sat side by side with Jack on the couch. With her hip pressed against his, they were a little closer than professionalism would tolerate – and this might not have been the way she would have liked for Larani to find out about their new relationship – but right then, Anna did not care. They were both shook up from the events of last night.
Anna looked up at her superior officer, then nodded once in confirmation. “Pretty much,” she answered. “Once they realized that there was no way to escape capture, they activated some kind of neural implant.”
“Forensics is looking over the bodies,” Jack added. “Whatever it was that Slade put in their brains, it's bloody sophisticated. A shock from a stun baton would have triggered the implant, as would any sedative that might sufficiently slow their heart rate. Whoever these guys were, they went in with the intention of killing themselves.”
Turning to the pitcher on her desk, Larani poured a glass of water and then offered it to Anna. “This situation is spiraling out of control,” she said. “I suppose I don't need to remind you how vital it is that we find Leo now.”
Jack stood up and paced to the wall, standing there with his back turned. “This just doesn't make any sense,” he muttered. “Why would Leo – or Slade, for that matter – send a squad of goons to attack a wedding?”
Anna sank into the couch cushions with her arms folded, shaking her head. “Isn't this what he did in Ottawa?” she countered. “Random acts of terror designed to drive a wedge between your people and mine?”
When Jack turned, his face was grim, but he nodded in response to that. “Exactly!” he said. “Everything Leo did last year was aimed at a specific political goal, but this time, it's personal. So, why?”
“The man is clearly vindictive, Jack,” Larani offered.
“Yes, but he works for Slade.”
“I don't see your point.”
Anna had to admit that she was struggling with it herself. It seemed reasonable to her that Slade would try to eliminate them – reasonable from the warped perspective of a psychopath, anyway. They had foiled more than one of Slade's plans. Why wouldn't the man try to kill them?
“Leo didn't even try to finish me off after we fought in that auditorium,” Jack said. “I was in shock, overcome with guilt; I might have snapped out of it if he had attacked me, but there was a good chance that he could have killed me right then and there. But he didn't even try.”
Jack strode back to her with his arms pinned to his sides, his eyes downcast. “Leo said that he wanted me to suffer,” he added. “He let me live because he wanted me to choke on my own guilt.”
Sitting on the edge of her desk, her hands resting on her knees, Larani stared into her lap. “That seems to be in keeping
with his character,” she mumbled. “As I said, the man is vindictive.”
“But Slade isn't.”
“Slade is remarkably cruel,” Larani shot back.
“But he isn't petty!” Jack replied. “Slade might have guns, soldiers, ziarogati and evil Keepers, but he's still running a ragtag terrorist organization. You don't send a team of well-trained operatives to carry out a suicide attack for the lolz. Terrorists don't have the resources to waste on petty vendettas. Every single mission has to be directed toward some political end. So, what does that tell you?”
With a gaping mouth, Anna blinked at him. “We've been fighting the wrong war,” she whispered. “All of this: the supply depot, the wedding, Ben. It's all just a distraction from their real goal.”
“Ding, ding, ding!”
Anna shut her eyes tight, forcing herself to remain calm. “Okay,” she said. “So, if that's the case, the next question becomes 'how do we figure out what their real purpose is, and stop it?' ”
While they were still processing that, her multi-tool chirped, and the screen alerted her to the presence of an incoming call, a priority one message from off world. This had to be good. “Answer call,” Anna said. “Holographic display.”
A two-dimensional image appeared before them: a woman with long dark hair who stood in a control room of some kind. “Agent Lenai?” she asked. “I'm Lieutenant Sheral Tyse with the Velezian Docking Authority?”
“What can I do for you, Lieutenant?”
The image shifted to camera footage of a small, box-like ship sitting in the middle of a docking bay, and Anna nearly jumped when she saw it. Finally, a little luck! Sheral Tyse's voice spoke over the footage. “A few days ago, we received an all point bulletin for a ship, matching this description; we think we've found it. The vessel is called the Brivan. They put in for refuel and routine maintenance half an hour ago.”
Scenarios ran through Anna's head in mere fractions of a second. Velezia was six hours away at high warp. Could they get there in time? “Listen to me, Lieutenant,” she said. “Under no circumstances will you let that ship depart. Perform a safety inspection, make up something about a quarantine. Do whatever you have to do to keep that vessel right where it is.”
