The Magekiller

by Orlando A. Sanchez

  “I’m sure his training isn’t done.”

  “Of course not,” Rahbi answered. “No one in Division 13 maintains those high standards of being a punching bag like you do.”

  “Your confidence is inspiring,” I said, opening the door and holding up the cup. “Thanks for the coffee. I appreciate it.”

  “Try not to get dead,” she said with a nod as the door closed.

  EIGHT

  “Locations for the entrance to Fordey extrapolated,” Cait said. “Would you like the coordinates?”

  “I need coordinates, times, and estimated duration of the Boutique in that location,” I said, sitting in the Duster. “Closest one first.”

  “Retrieving data,” Cait purred. “The closest location will be City Hall, in approximately sixty minutes. The duration is a variable beyond my ability to predict. According to gathered data, the entrance to Fordey Boutique has not been known to remain in one place for longer than ten minutes.”

  “Wonderful,” I muttered. “City Hall is a huge building. Can you key in to the signature of the portal?”

  “Yes, with an accuracy of eighty-five percent.”

  “It will have to do,” I said, starting the engine of the Duster. “And the second location?”

  “The second location appears to be the catacombs beneath the Basilica.”

  “St Patrick’s Old Cathedral? Are you sure?”

  “My records indicate these to be the only catacombs in the city. Do you know of any others?”

  “Not to my knowledge,” I said. “It just seems creepy as hell to have an entrance to your shop appear in the catacombs. That’s why I asked.”

  “It would appear your question was redundant and irrelevant.”

  “This sarcasm module of yours is going to get you shut down.”

  “I do believe it creates a sense of realism in my interactions with you,” she said in a husky voice. “Why would you want to change that? I’m the only one that understands you.”

  “Because its aggravating and—you know what? Never mind,” I said, frustrated. “I need you to locate two Division 13 operatives.”

  “Tracking Division 13 personnel can trip security failsafes,” Cait replied, seductively. “Are you certain you want to take this course of action?”

  “Can you run a trace without getting noticed?”

  “Depends on the operative. The lower the designation the greater the chance of discovery.”

  The lower the designation, the higher in the chain of command, and I needed to know Luca’s whereabouts. I figured I’d leave her for last, just in case I triggered a D13 response of epic proportions. They frowned on invasive software attacks and breaches of defense. Running a search on Assistant Director, Luca, designation 002 was going to cause a shitstorm.

  “Good point,” I said. “First, locate Jude. He was designation 012 last time we spoke.”

  “Division 13 operative Jude, designation 011, is traveling north on the FDR Drive.” Cait answered. “He is currently on Twenty-third Street.”

  “He made 011?” I asked. “Very nice. At this rate he should be Upper E in a few years.”

  “It would seem your absence provided the opportunity for promotion.”

  “He deserved it, even though he’s still a little green.”

  “How long would you like me to keep the trace running?”

  “Keep a burst trace on him five seconds long. First burst in thirty seconds. Add random increments thereafter, no less than five seconds, no greater than ten.”

  “Understood.”

  “For the second operative you need to be prepared to burn your trail when you locate her,” I said. “Can you do it?”

  “Yes. My capabilities have been modified, but my functions are equal to the task,” Cait said. “I can run a Ghost Protocol to increase the odds of remaining undetected.”

  “Good. Locate Luca, designation 002.”

  “Are you certain? 002 is an upper echelon operative, and may require a deeper trace.”

  “Can you erase your tracks?”

  “As long as the trace is five seconds or less, there is a high probability of remaining undiscovered. Staying in motion will be helpful.”

  “Got it,” I said, heading north to intercept Jude. “Do it.”

  A few seconds later ,Cait chirped and flashed yellow.

  “Operative Luca, designation 002 located,” Cait said. “Active security countermeasures have been encountered, but I have her signature.”

  “Location?”

  “Operative Luca is currently crossing the Triboro Bridge, and heading towards Randalls Island,” Cait answered. “The only logical conclusion is a visit to Sheol.”

  “If she’s heading to Sheol it means she needs information,” I said. “She would never lead a prisoner transport. She’s going there to see someone.”

  “Or pick something up.”

  “What would she pick up from Sheol?”

  “It would seem Operative Jude is headed in the same direction.”

  “That means Jude is on his way to meet up with her. Get his location again.”

  “Operative 011, Jude, is still on the FDR Drive and is being pursued by several vehicles.”

  “What? What do you mean pursued?”

  “Pursuit, in this context, is the act of following.”

  “Thank you Merriam-Webster,” I said. “I meant who is following Jude?”

  “Abnormal energy signatures in three vehicles approaching Operative 011’s vehicle. Indicative of the group known as Widows.”

  “Driving pattern on Jude’s vehicle, any erratic behavior?”

  “None,” Cait answered. “Speed and velocity is constant, as is his current route. It would appear he is unaware he is being pursued.”

  “Shit,” I said, stepping on the gas. “Place a call to Jude’s brace.”

  “Doing so will alert Division 13 to your approximate location.”

  “Can’t be helped,” I said. “If I don’t warn him, he’s dead.”

  “Placing call now,” Cait purred. “Call connected.”

  “Who’s this?” Jude’s voice came over my brace. “This is a secure line. If you—”

  “Be quiet a moment and listen, padawan.”

  “Padawan? Ronin? Is that you, sir? You shouldn’t be contacting me—”

  “You have three vehicles after you,” I said in a clipped voice. “They should look like small, black, armored trucks. We call them ‘Coffins’. Inside those vehicles are some nasty ladies who want to visit bodily harm upon you.”

  “Excuse me?” Jude asked. I could almost see him turning his head and looking in the rear-view mirrors. “You aren’t making sense.”

  “Behind you are three identical black vehicles. They’re Widows. They want to kill you.”

  “Shit. Are you serious?”

  “I’m on my way. Take evasive action.”

  “Evasive action?” Jude asked, as fear crept into his voice. “I’m on the FDR. What kind of evasive action can I take?”

  If he could ask that question, it was clear he needed more training. It was entirely possible they promoted him too early.

  “Don’t let them surround you,” I said. “Let’s start there.”

  “I see them,” Jude said, surprised. “They don’t look friendly.”

  “That’s because they aren’t,” I answered. “I’m on my way, hang tight.”

  I ended the call, and jumped onto the FDR at Houston Street.

  NINE

  Death Widows were dangerous for seasoned operatives.

  For one, the trucks they drove were impervious to anything short of anti-tank missiles. Whoever designed the Coffins focused on a few things and excelled. Speed, durability, and protection. Coffins were fast, indestructible machines of destruction.

  They were called Coffins because of the boxy shape of the trucks. That, and the fact that whenever one of their vehicles appeared, someone was going to die.

  Inside each Coffin sat five Widows
—four passengers and the driver. One Widow was a nightmare. They each specialized in several forms of armed and unarmed combat, spycraft and psyops. Every member of Widows was formidable, practically unstoppable, and lethal.

  Jude was being pursued by fifteen of them.

  Once they started working exclusively with Delilah, Division 13 operatives started calling them the Death Widows. Unlike Delilah, who hated her unofficial title of Azrael, the angel of death, Widows relished in theirs, using the name to induce fear in their victims.

  For a trainee like Jude, he would be the appetizer on the way to the real meal, which I can only guess was Luca. This was getting worse by the second.

  “Cait, how long until we catch up to him?”

  “Factoring in our velocity, density of traffic, and Operative 011’s current speed—five minutes.”

  “And how long before we bump into the Widows?”

  “I’m going to assume you mean ‘bump’ in the figurative sense,” Cait responded.

  “Something like that,” I said, keeping an eye on the road for the Widow’s vehicles. “How soon?”

  “If they maintain their pursuit we will encounter the Widow’s rear vehicle in three minutes.”

  “He has a two minute lead on them,” I muttered to myself. “Not good, but not entirely bad.”

  Widows were world class killers. Offensive driving would be a skill they possessed. Their first attack would have the two side vehicles bookending Jude with the rear Coffin boxing him in from behind. Shooters would then render whatever he was driving to automotive Swiss cheese.

  Since he was only designated 011, he would be driving a hyped up POS. Division 13 only provided SuNaTran vehicles to operatives designated below 011. Jude was going to be a huge mobile target in a vehicle that wasn’t bulletproof.

  If the Widows caught up to him, he was dead.

  The FDR Drive was a mostly straight shot up the east side of Manhattan.

  As formidable as the Coffins were, SuNaTran vehicles were superior in several ways. Cecil outfitted his vehicles with the onion concept of three layers of protection in mind. The first layer was purely physical. Hardened metal, reinforced chassis, runflat tires, plexan windows, and basically making everything as hard to destroy as possible.

  The second layer was technological. He used state of the art equipment in every facet possible. From defensive to offensive features, tech was a strong part of every SuNaTran vehicle.

  The last layer, which I understood the least, scared me the most…magic. Cecil always used magic and runes in all his vehicles. Not magic in the sense of my being a technomancer, but magic as in the old kind, the kind that fried you to ash if used incorrectly.

  The Coffins were small tanks. The Duster I drove was the anti-tank missile.

  I saw the rear Coffin in the distance and accelerated. I unholstered Thorn and placed it in the center weapon mount. I didn’t want to have to reach for it when the Widows and I met.

  “I noticed you are on an impact trajectory for the rear Widow vehicle,” Cait observed. “Do you plan on changing course?”

  “And ruin my perfect introduction?” I said. “You realize all the Widows are female? What kind of impression will I make if I change course?”

  “How about the non-vehicle crushing impression?” Cait asked with concern. “Besides, the only lethal female you’re attracted to, much to your detriment, and against better judgement, is Assistant Director Luca. Not that she returns the sentiment.”

  “She just enjoys playing hard to get,” I said, making sure Thorn was secure as I accelerated even more. “We have an understanding.”

  “You understand that she will have to shoot you on sight, since you are designated rogue by Division 13?” Cait answered. “I don’t know what you see in her.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re jealous?”

  “Ronin,” Cait said with a measured sigh. “I am a techbrace. I’m not programmed for jealousy. I just don’t want to see you riddled with gunshot wounds. Luca has a reputation for being violent.”

  “Good point,” I said. “I’ll be careful. Keep my dragonscale on at all times. Time to give the Widows a little bump.”

  “We are currently moving at seventy miles per hour. Anything you hit at this velocity will not be a little bump, but rather a large crash.”

  I adjusted the five-point harness that acted as my seatbelt, making it tighter.

  “I’m counting on it.”

  TEN

  SuNaTran vehicles were hard to destroy, but it wasn’t impossible.

  I mean, except for the SuNaTran vehicle dubbed the Beast, which not surprisingly belonged to the Night Warden, and I heard it was impossible to destroy, Cecil’s vehicles were incredibly hard to stop. It was part of the SuNaTran brand. Apparently, the Death Widows had been taking some lessons from Cecil and his crew.

  I managed to bring the Duster to seventy-five miles per hour before I slammed into the rear Coffin. Instead of it shattering into small Coffin pieces, I catapulted the still intact Coffin over the stone divider and into oncoming traffic. It rolled several times before coming to a standstill, the slowly rotating wheels pointing skywards as smoke poured out from the engine. The Widows emerged mostly intact, but disoriented. The Duster had suffered damage, but I didn’t stop to check. I felt Cait flush a medkit into my system.

  Launched Coffin wasn’t the effect I was looking for, atomized Coffin would’ve been better, but at least I’d removed one of the Coffins for the moment. I looked up ahead, and saw what could only be Jude in a large, black, Chevy Impala. It basically screamed ‘shoot me’ in large neon letters. Behind him, two Coffins closed on his position.

  “Cait, contact Jude again.”

  “Connecting,” she said. “Your vitals are stable for now.”

  “Cecil knows how to make cars indestructible,” I said under my breath. “Keep an eye on them for any anomalies.”

  “Hello? Ronin, sir?” Jude’s nervous voice came over my brace. “Someone just launched one of the vehicles to the Southbound side of the FDR!”

  He still needed an ample dose of training.

  “I know,” I said. “Increase your speed. I’m going to try and convince your new friends that killing you will be bad for their health.”

  “That…that was you?” Jude asked, incredulously. “Do you know how much damage you’ve done, and how many lives you endangered?”

  Actually I did. I calculated the impact to have the greatest chance of destruction, barring that, it would send the rear Coffin into the Southbound side near one of the overpasses and cause it to roll on a straightaway, giving oncoming traffic plenty of time to stop and avoid a collision.

  “I know of one life that is still endangered if I don’t convince them otherwise,” I said with an edge in my voice. “How bulletproof is your vehicle?”

  “Not very, I’m afraid,” he said, disappointed. “I was informed I wouldn’t get a SuNaTran vehicle until my next designation, and that could take years.”

  “Sucks to be the rookie,” I said. “Talk later, drive now.”

  “Understood,” he said and ended the call.

  “Cait, see if you can find any details on Jude’s promotion,” I said, closing on the two Coffins ahead of me. “There’s no way he’s ready to be 011.”

  “Do you think it’s a trap?”

  “No,” I said after a pause. “Luca and the Director both know why I made my choice. I just want to know if there was a specific reason to move him up. It may not be a trap, but it can certainly be bait.”

  “Bait for Tigris? Would they do that—? Forget that last question. Why would they do that?”

  “Luca had to know I would come for Jude at some point,” I said. “Maybe she figured I would bring Tigris with me?”

  “And by default, Delilah?”

  “That would make sense, except—”

  “Except Jude was being pursued by Tigris when we got here.”

  “She doesn’t know that yet. I wonder if advancing
him made him a target, or if they knew where he was heading. Either way, it’s off.”

  “It would mean someone knew where they were going prior to them getting there.”

  “Precisely, Watson,” I said. “Smells just like something Delilah would orchestrate.”

  “Watson?” Cait asked. “Are you implying that you possess the genius level intellect of Sherlock, and that I am the average intelligence, bumbling assistant?”

  I brought the Duster into the center lane with a Coffin on either side of me. I was counting on their habit of swiss-cheesing a vehicle to kick in. I grabbed Thorn, opening the window just enough to aim through, and fired at the Coffin on my left.

  Negation rounds, while not instantly lethal to humans, still cause severe damage. I punched a few holes in the Coffin and braced myself. I wasn’t disappointed. A few seconds later, machine gun fire raked across the side of the Duster.

  “Cait, how strong are those rounds?” I asked. “I don’t feel them getting through the Duster.”

  “That would be a correct assessment. Conventional rounds are being used by the Widows.”

  “We need to change that. Can you do a quickscan and see if they have anything that can do damage to us?”

  “One moment,” Cait said in her husky voice. “It would appear they carry a contingent of runed ammunition for a rocket propelled grenade launcher.”

  “Runed grenades? Impressive. Where did they get runed RPG’s?”

  “Data unknown.”

  That usually meant the Moving Market. I wouldn’t put it past Tessa to sell grenades to these psycho women.

  “Fine,” I said. “We need them to use those RPG’s on us.”

  “On us?” Cait asked, incredulously. “You realize a runed RPG can penetrate the armor of this vehicle, causing extensive damage?”

  “We’re running out of FDR. We have their attention, lets put them to rest.”

  “The timing required to execute the maneuver you wish—”

  “We need to make them miss,” I said, keeping pace with the Coffins. “That’s all I need from you. When you sense the weapons are primed, let me know when to stop.”