“I’m sorry about your family, Ms. Dumas. It was a tragic—”
“Don’t you dare say accident,” I practically yelled at him. Breath flooded through me and my powers itched to kick in. Somewhere in the back of my mind, they willed me to kill him to protect my secret. It was a fleeting thought and I was shocked that I had it.
He shook his head. “I suspected it wasn’t… and after you woke up and disappeared I pretty much figured it was ISO-1.”
I don’t know what was more shocking, that he wasn’t arguing with me, or that he knew about ISO-1.
“You knew? Or suspected at least, and you didn’t do anything?”
He looked away; a man that honorable doesn’t wear shame well. “I’ll look the other way… this time. I understand the need for revenge is powerful, but it’s also consuming. Don’t let it consume you.” He jetted up into the air, the rumbling shockwave of his passage rolled down the valley in his wake.
“It’s not revenge,” I said. “It’s justice.”
Chapter 13
Bill followed his CO, Major Quinton, out of the New Orleans Mayor’s office. No one in that room left happy. “You’ve really caused a stir here, Bill, I hope you know that,” the Major said without looking at him. They reached the elevator and pressed the button. The doors opened a moment later and they rode the box down in silence.
“In my experience, Sir, when an OP receives this kind of resistance, it’s time to push harder, not back off.”
They exited the elevator on the first floor. Bill’s squad, all in plain clothes, fell in behind them as they walked for the exit. Quinton was a stand-up officer in Bill’s opinion. He’d served under him several years now and he respected the man—something very few officers ever deserved.
The limo with the Army plates waited at the foot of the steps leading up to city hall. “Mine too,” he said finally. “Give ‘em hell.” He opened the door to the limo, took his seat, and was about to close the door when he paused. “Bill, watch your six,” he said.
“Affirmative, Sir.” Bill snapped to attention and shot the officer a textbook salute that would have made a drill sergeant envious.
After the limo departed his squad closed ranks around him. “What’s the word, sir?” Rico asked.
“The word, gentlemen, is ‘’give ‘em hell.’ And that’s exactly what we are going to do.” Before he could give the rest of his orders he noticed the short brunette in the plain clothes and sneakers. Krisan wore a pair of sunglasses that still had the tag attached to them. She wasn’t trying to hide, but she also wasn’t seeking him out. Was she there to see him or someone else? “Rico, get the van ready. I don’t know where we're going next, but with the CO’s blessing, it could be anywhere. And Sandy?”
“Yes Sergeant?” Sandy replied.
“I know your sister is getting married, and I’ll do everything to get you there, but if we’re dealing with supers, we’re going to need you.”
“Charlie Mike, Master Sarge.”
“Good man. Go be about it, gentlemen. I see someone I need to talk to.”
Felix smiled—likely because the combat veteran didn’t miss anything. “Sure you do,” he said as they split up. Bill smirked. He liked his squad; they were a well-oiled machine, each with his own specialty and mission, and they trained hard to get where they were. CID was more than happy to give him free rein with them, especially with his track record. Now that they were talking about tons of C4 as opposed to ten pounds, no mere Mayor could get the Major to order Bill to back off.
“Fancy meeting you here,” Krisan said from behind him. Bill blinked; she had just been leaning against the bus stop fifty feet away.
“Somehow I don’t think it was an accident.” After the drink and dinner they’d shared the night before, he was ready to move their relationship, such as it was, forward. But there was something elusive about the woman, something mysterious, and it made her all the more desirable.
“There are no accidents,” she said. Krisan cradled her phone in one hand while she spoke; it sent a red flag up on Bills radar.
“You’re not recording this, are you?”
Her eyes went wide, feigning pain. “You wound me, sir. Of course not. Like I told you I’m not interested in CID business— if you are CID,” she added teasing him.
“Okay, then. Are you here on personal business?” He took a step forward, closing the distance between them, forcing her to look up at him. He was significantly taller than her and only inches apart she had to crane her neck up.
She placed a hand flat on his chest in a clear “no” signal, but because of the physical contact, it wasn’t a definitive no. “Not at the moment, but that could change,” she said coyly. “I have some information for you, and I thought we could make a trade?”
“I like the sound of that. Coffee?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.
“You read my mind.”
He took her hand, noticing that she didn’t resist the casual touch, and made his way with her in tow to the coffee stand at the end of the block.
Once they had ordered and received their drinks, she wandered over to a bench with a view of the small park next to city hall.
“How in the name of God can you drink that much sugar and stay so thin and pretty?” he asked. He hadn’t meant to blurt it out, but she caught him by surprise when she ordered caramel, sugar, whipped cream, and more sugar in her coffee.
“It doesn’t matter what you eat, only how much you eat, at least for me. This is pretty much my diet—this and bagels,” she said sweetly as she licked the whipped cream off the edge of the plastic cup.
“Color me impressed. Now, what was this about a trade?”
She sucked down half her coffee before continuing. “Look at this.” She held up her phone playing a live video feed of a burning mansion somewhere southwest of the city proper.
“Expensive house. You would think they’d have fire suppression,” Bill said.
She nodded. “They probably did, but it doesn’t do much against a fire started by a thermite grenade, does it?”
He frowned, furrowing his eyebrows together he checked the feed. It was indeed live on YouTube. “That’s a live broadcast. How do you know what started it?”
She took the phone away, cradling it with her off hand. Bill wasn’t sure, but he swore he could see her fingers moving as she spoke. “The mansion belonged to one John Baptist. A very rich man who is currently in Europe. He’ll go on TV tonight and deny any knowledge of wrongdoing. That is, once the police release details on the drugs and the identities of the bodies—including three on FBI’s top twenty wanted supers list.”
Bill put his coffee down and stared at her for a good minute. “You’ve been in town all of two days. How do you know any of this?” he asked.
She smiled and gulped down the rest of her coffee, unconcerned about how hot it was. “A good reporter doesn’t give up her sources. So, now that we’ve established that I know what I’m talking about, how about that deal?”
He slowly nodded. “Okay, spill.”
“Tomorrow is Black Friday. While everyone is trampling each other to save five dollars on an overpriced toaster, five state-of-the-art skiffs with AMG electric motors will pull into Eloi Bay where another five very heavy-duty pickup trucks will offload the cargo of hundred-dollar bills and drive them to a bank in Downtown New Orleans. This entire operation will take less than two hours. It happens twice a month. Dirty money goes out, clean money comes in.”
Bill couldn’t believe his ears. “How? How in the world could you possibly know all of this?”
“Are you good at your job, Master Sergeant Farrel?” she asked sweetly.
“Yes,” he replied automatically.
“So am I. Can you explain, in twenty words or less, why you are good at your job?”
He thought about it for a long, silent minute. “Okay. Point taken. What do you want in exchange?”
“Nothing amazing. I want to go with you, and I want access to t
he super-secret hi-tech drones you use to record all the action.”
He opened his mouth to ask her how she knew about those, then immediately closed his lips tight. “You really should work for Army Intelligence,” he said.
She shook her head. “Regular pay and three squares aren’t for me. Besides,” she said with a wink, “someone would expect to tell me what to do. And let’s be honest; I’m not great with ‘no’ or ‘stop’.” She placed her hand on his leg. “How about you?”
Chapter 14
Vaas stumbled backward into his plush hotel chair; his mind registered what he was seeing, but his intellect couldn’t believe it. How had someone burned down Baptist’s mansion, killed all the men, allowed the cops to seize the drug shipment, outing Baptist as part of ISO in the process, and they also killed all three Regulators?
“I thought Azael was an F3 invulnerable type—bullets shouldn’t have hurt him,” Miguel said quietly.
Vaas nodded dumbly. More than that, Azael, Riot, and String were the top three enforcers for ISO… in the whole world. There was no hiding this. When word got back to the council… and I don’t even know who or what is doing this to us.
“Any word from the street on who’s behind this?” he asked.
Miguel shook his head. “Nothing, hombre. Which is something.”
“Explain?”
Miguel walked over to the bar and poured himself a tequila. Vaas noted that his chief lieutenant seemed supremely calm. Of course, it wasn’t his neck on the line, was it?
After he downed the shot he turned and leaned against the bar. “Normally the smaller gangs are all too eager to talk to us. Tell us all kinds of stuff in the hope that we’ll take out a rival— you know, gang politics.”
Vaas was indeed familiar with it. After all, that was how he and Peter grew up. “And?”
“They’re not saying anything to anyone. Not a word. We had to go in and bust up some south side enforcers just to find out what was going on. There’s a new player in town. No one is saying who, but it’s not the feds or a rival gang—they seem to kill without mercy. Whoever they are, they’ve got the street gangs terrified of their own shadows.”
“At least that is something. We need to set a trap. Has Peter returned from wherever he ran off to after the C4 buy went south?”
Miguel shook his head. “No. I checked his usual safe houses, women, and a few bars—nothing. He’s probably lying low until he thinks it safe to return. He’ll turn up in a bar or brothel here in the next week.”
It did sound like the man. Sometimes Vaas wondered if he’d made the right decision for his little brother. Maybe he could have sent him off to school or the military; anything to keep him out of this life. The thought of his little brother in the army made him chuckle. Peter was such a screw up he wouldn’t have lasted five minutes in the army.
“What do you want to do about tomorrow?” Miguel asked.
“Bring everyone in, every gang that will work with us, everyone who can be here by noon. Bring them all in. One-million dollars to whoever finds or stops the person or people responsible. Two-million if they bring them to me alive. No matter what, Miguel, that shipment from Belize has got to come through. If it doesn’t…” Vaas unconsciously rubbed his throat. Losing drugs and merchandise was one thing… but losing laundered cash would get him killed.
“I’m on it.”
“Don’t be on it, get it done. Or we’re both of us dead men.”
Chapter 15
I was up early after a good night’s sleep. Concern about Mach and everything else had faded when I returned to my little apartment. A box of food, fresh clothes (including a new red scarf), and a handwritten thank you note from Jahaira had greeted me.
As a model I had hated Black Friday. All the clothing outlets were scraping together every single ad they could to maximize their profits, which meant lower than usual wages that time of year. After all, there was always a younger, prettier model who would work for “exposure” just to get her foot in the door… regardless of who it hurt.
I was one such model, once. I glanced at the mirror. It boggled my mind. Why did Joseph look so much older than he actually was, yet I look like I did at eighteen? Flawless skin, no lines, no sign of aging? Joseph had the bearing of an old man; he was fit and tough for his sixties, but he was old. Then to find out he wasn’t… what did these powers do to him?”
“Joseph was tired of the killing. It’s why he stopped. You won’t stop, right Madi?” Spice asked me from the passenger seat of the Hellcat as I drove in the pre-dawn hours toward my next destination, Eloi Bay.
This time I barely jerked the wheel from the sudden intrusion. I glanced at her. She was every inch my sister, the spitting image of Sara from the last time I saw her… but she wasn’t. Sara wasn’t cruel, or bloodthirsty. I stayed silent for a moment, chewing on these thoughts.
“I don’t like being ignored, Madisun.”
“I’m not ignoring you, just formulating my thoughts. Are you my sister?” I asked point blank. I wanted to know what was going on. Was I crazy? Or was it something else.
She shrugged. “Sure.”
I shook my head. I had to focus for a second as I passed a box van on the two-lane highway. Lucky for me the Hellcat had enough power to pass a hundred such vans. After I was back in my lane I spoke. “That’s not an answer.” I wasn’t going to look at her this time. “What are you, really?” But I couldn’t help myself.
She smiled, so much like Spice it hurt. But now that I knew it wasn’t her, I could sense something behind the smile—a malice Sara never had.
“Does it matter? I’m here, I’m real. I could be anything or anyone, but Sara is why you do this so Sara is who I am. As long as you remember why you do this, and who hurt you, everything will be fine.”
My spine shivered at the implied threat. “Why did Joseph age like that? If he stopped using the powers…”
“I don’t like this conversation. I liked you much better when you were willing to do anything to kill the people who hurt you. Get back there, Madisun. You’ll be much happier if you do.”
I wasn’t angry when I made the decisions I made; scared for sure, but not angry. I wanted justice for my family, and I was willing to do whatever it took to get it. I still was. “I’m not wavering if that is what you mean. Justice will come for the people who killed my family. Not blind rage, but justice.” Suddenly I sensed a satisfaction, an agreement from Sara—but there was more. I cocked my head to the side trying to pin it down.
“For now, yes,” she said. When I looked over, she was gone… again. I hated that she pulled that trick.
My next step required some extra work on my part. My stash of guns was running low; I was down to a brand-new Beretta 9mm Storm. Not my favorite caliber but it would do in a pinch. I had five mags for that, plus my knives and sword. And two pounds of C4 I took from the shipment the other day. No silencers, no shotguns, no rifles. Whatever I did after this would need to involve finding some new hardware. My plan was to blow up all the money, less my cut, of course. Maybe this time I could hang around long enough to scavenge some goodies. Or maybe just take enough money that it won’t matter.
The rain started a few minutes later and I smiled as I turned on the wipers. Rain and clouds meant darkness; I liked the dark. My prey wouldn’t. Not that they would live to fear it in the future.
♦♦♦
“Nice car,” Zim commented from the front seat. Krisan looked up to see the muscle car speed by them. A smile slowly spread on her lips. She knew who that was, even if no one else did. If they knew the truth about how she got her information they’d probably throw her in jail. But after six years as a reporter in Detroit she was tired of using her abilities to maintain the status quo. Because the status wasn’t quo.
She reached up and touched Master Sergeant Farrel on the shoulder. “What do I do with this?” she asked, holding up a bulletproof vest.
“You wear it…”
She sighed. “Clear
ly. But how, you dork?”
He smiled. “Sorry. Used to dealing with idiot Privates—”
“Hey,” Sandy said from his position at the rear door. With Krisan along there wasn’t an extra seat. As the only guy invulnerable to physical harm, he didn’t need a seatbelt.
“Present company included, of course,” Bill said with a smirk at the Private.
“Join the Army, they said, see the world, they said. Instead, it’s, ‘Sandy, stand there and get shot at. Sandy, stand there and let them hit you. Sandy, go there and jump in the volcano.’”
“Really?” Krisan asked her mind perking up at the thought.
“No, to the volcano, yes to everything else,” Bill said.
“I could, though, theoretically,” Sandy replied.
“Private, how many times do I have to explain your powers to you,” Sergeant Zim said. “You are invulnerable to physical harm. You still need to breathe, eat, piss, and bathe. Bullets and knives can’t hurt you, sure. But you can still drown, suffocate, be poisoned… the list goes on. It’s what makes you invaluable to us and useless to everyone else.”
“Right, yeah, it’s a lot to remember,” Sandy said.
“Just remember to do what you are told, Sandy,” Bill said. He’d softened his tone and the invulnerable soldier looked properly appeased.
“Yes, Sergeant!”
Krisan typed away on her phone, chronicling the conversation and little bits of info she picked up. She didn’t need to record conversations; she had a photographic memory for them, she literally saw words in the air. She used it in conjunction with her other abilities to record anything of pertinence. Sure, she couldn’t write a story about the special CID unit right then. But someday?
Bill turned his attention back to her and pulled the Velcro on the vest, showing her how it went on around her torso. “The trauma plate will stop anything short of a battle rifle, so don’t go thinking you are Sandy here. You stay in the rear and watch the feed. You won’t have access to comms, just video and external audio.”
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