by Siegel, Alex
Norbert hopped out of the passenger side of the van. He ran over to the garage door and used a key to remove a padlock. He pushed the rolling door all the way up. All the security systems were permanently shut down, and that lock was the only thing keeping intruders out.
Aaron drove inside. He looked at the rows of rusty steel pillars with bittersweet feelings. This place had been his home for more than a year, and he had become a commander here. He would always have fond memories. On the other hand, it was an ugly dump with a leaky roof. Everything about this building was hacked and temporary. It was impossible to heat or cool properly. He would be glad when it was just a golden memory.
Great piles of cardboard boxes and wooden crates were stacked in the center of the warehouse. Aaron parked the moving van next to a pile and got out. Norbert hurried over to join him.
"Ready for some hard physical labor?" Aaron stretched his arms.
Norbert nodded. "Yes, sir."
They spent an hour loading boxes into the large van. The job was only half done when they ran out of cargo space. They would have to come back at least once and maybe twice to get everything. The Chicago cell owned a lot of stuff.
Both men had worked up a sweat from lifting so many heavy boxes. This wasn't convenient because Aaron now had an appointment with a police detective and wanted to look sharp. He and Norbert quickly took turns in the shower. Fortunately, the hot water still worked.
After drying off, they put on United States Army dress uniforms. The costumes were hanging in the cab of the moving van, and corresponding identification was already in the pockets.
They checked each other for flaws in their appearance. Norbert's brown curly hair was still damp from the hot shower, and his round face was still flushed. He filled out his Army uniform nicely. More than a year of intense training had given him a very lean and muscular body. He now looked and acted like a real legionnaire, and Aaron was confident in his abilities. Aaron smiled a little.
"Sir?" Norbert said.
"You've come so far since the day Wesley made you one of us. I still remember that night."
"I'm sure I remember it better than you. It was a traumatic experience."
"Indeed," Aaron said. "I guess I never apologized for wiping out all your men."
"You were just doing your job. It's my fault as much as anybody's. If only I had asked the right questions or been a little less gullible, those good men would still be alive. I have to live with that guilt for the rest of my life."
Aaron patted Norbert on the shoulder. "Don't beat yourself up. The Brotherhood was working for an enemy of God, and all of them were destined to die. You couldn't have stopped it. It's a real miracle you survived, and in retrospect, I'm very glad you did. If I ever see Wesley again, I'll thank him for the gift of a fine addition to my team."
Norbert blushed. "Should we get going, sir? The detective is expecting us."
"Right. Let's go."
* * *
Police detective Jake Murphy sat behind his blue metal desk. Aaron picked out subtle details that suggested what kind of man he was. Murphy's highly polished badge was made in an obsolete style, suggesting he was proud of being an old-school cop. His blue uniform fit too tightly around his gut, indicating vanity. His face was freshly shaved, and no nose hairs were poking out. There was only one folder on his otherwise clean desk.
"What can the Chicago police do for the United States Army?" he said.
Aaron and Norbert sat with strict military postures in their Army uniforms. Both wore the rank insignia of lieutenants.
"We're gathering information about a woman named Tawni Williams," Aaron said. "We were told she's the main suspect in a few cases you're working on."
"That's right. She's accused of several violent crimes. What's your interest in her?"
"She was in the National Guard until four months ago. Recently, evidence came to light that implicates her in a crime committed while she was in uniform. An officer was badly injured in a car accident. We now believe Ms. Williams caused the accident. We're hoping you can help us locate her."
"I wish I could," Murphy said. "I've been trying to find this woman for weeks. She's very slippery."
Aaron was pleased to hear that but didn't show it. "What crimes is she accused of?"
"She runs with a group that calls itself the Lake Street Vigilantes. They attack small-time criminals like drug dealers, car thieves, and even the occasional wife beater. They always pick targets that are isolated and vulnerable. The west side of Chicago is their hunting grounds."
Aaron looked around. The detective was one of several in a large shared office. Each man or woman had his own desk, but they were spaced close together. Phone calls and conversations with witnesses could be heard across the room. Being here brought back plenty of poignant memories for Aaron. He had been a Chicago detective once, and he had worked in a place much like this one.
"How long has this been going on?"
"For months," Murphy said. "At first, my department didn't pay much attention. The victims refused to file a complaint or make a statement, so our hands were tied. Lately, though, the attacks have become more violent. She put several men in the hospital with serious injuries. This woman has a very nasty approach to crime fighting."
"I'm surprised she's still alive. Vigilantes don't last long on the streets of Chicago."
"She's smart enough to avoid the big fish, but it's just a matter of time. If we don't get her, somebody else will. She's ruffling the wrong feathers."
"What's her reputation aside from general nastiness?" Aaron said. "What kind of woman is she?"
"I'm told she enjoys a lot of variety in her love life." Murphy winked. "She changes boyfriends like she changes clothes. That's one reason she's so hard to catch. She never sleeps in the same bed more than a few nights in a row. Always moving on. Her only long-term relationship seems to be with her mother."
Everything Aaron had heard so far reinforced his impression that he wanted Tawni on his team. She was a natural operator who knew how to exploit her own femininity.
"If you do catch her, please let us know right away." Aaron put a business card on the desk. "She has military crimes to answer for."
Murphy picked up the card. "I'll do that if you'll do the same."
"Sure. Thanks. We'll let you get back to work."
Aaron and Norbert stood up and left.
* * *
The moving van was stuck in traffic. Aaron gripped the steering wheel in frustration as he stared at an endless sea of cars on Interstate 294. The highway had become a parking lot with three lanes in each direction. Nobody had moved an inch in fifteen minutes. He was used to slow city traffic, but this was ridiculous, and it wasn't even rush hour.
He sighed and looked over at Norbert. Both men still wore the Army uniforms from the meeting with Detective Murphy. Aaron planned to change as soon as he got back to headquarters. Hopefully that would happen today. The Rosemont Tower Hotel was only two miles away, tantalizingly close.
"Call your girlfriends," he said. "Maybe they can tell us what the fuck is going on."
"Yes, sir."
Norbert took out his gray phone and made the call. He turned on the speaker so Aaron could participate in the conversation.
"Bethany, Leanna, we're stuck in traffic," Norbert said. "Why?"
After a pause, Bethany replied. "There is a huge protest at O'Hare Airport. The airport is shut down and all the surrounding roads are backed up. It's a mess. You could be stuck for a while."
Aaron assumed Bethany had spoken. The twins were identical in nearly every way, including their voices, but he had learned the subtle differences between them. Bethany was the slightly more aggressive of the two. She tended to give the reports and make the complaints. If a fact needed to be stated clearly and unambiguously, she stated it. Leanna preferred to lurk in the background.
On the other hand, Leanna seemed to have access to deeper levels of wisdom. She sometimes made small comments that
were baffling and easily ignored. Days later, Aaron would finally understand the profound truth in her observation. Both women were incredibly smart, but Leanna had an extra bit of freakish intuition.
"What are they protesting?" Aaron said.
"I'm trying to figure that out, sir," Bethany said. "The news coverage is confusing. I think the protesters don't like rich people or politicians."
"In other words, a generic protest."
"But a violent one. I'm looking at the television channels now. The police are having a very hard time with the situation, and there is smoke coming from parts of the airport."
He frowned. He didn't like to see violent social unrest in his territory. The Gray Spear Society probably had no interest in the matter, but he would keep an eye on it, nonetheless.
"Dig into it. I'll expect more details when I finally get home."
"Yes, sir," Bethany said.
"As long as I have you on the phone," Aaron said, "do you have any more information about Tawni Williams?"
"No, sir. We spent all morning putting our computer systems back together. Half of them are still turned off. Some of the electrical power circuits were wired incorrectly, and Nancy is trying to fix them for us. We're also having problems with the ventilation system in the data center. Is Tawni a high priority?"
"Medium. It can wait until after you get a little more settled. That's all. Bye."
Norbert put away his phone.
Aaron looked around for a way to escape the highway. Unfortunately, a heavily loaded moving van wasn't the best vehicle for tricky and illegal driving maneuvers. Cars surrounded him on all sides. Unless he was willing to abandon the van and all of its contents, he was trapped. He hated being trapped.
Norbert was pushing buttons on his phone.
"What are you doing?" Aaron said.
"I'm using the browser to search the internet."
"What are you searching for?"
"Information about this protest," Norbert said. "I don't have anything better to do."
Aaron nodded. His preferred approach to information gathering was old-fashioned. His years as a cop had taught him the value of examining a crime scene with his own eyes. He liked to hear reports directly from witnesses. Sometimes the way they talked was as informative as what they said. That kind of subtle detail got lost on the internet.
"This isn't the first large protest," Norbert said eventually. "There were several in Chicago during the last few weeks. The previous ones weren't nearly as disruptive though. I'm seeing a clear pattern of escalating violence. What's strange is the lack of organization at the top. Several groups are claiming responsibility, but they all have different agendas. The politics are random blend of left-wing ideology and libertarianism. There is even some communism in the mix."
Aaron considered this information. He was getting more interested.
"Somebody must be behind the whole thing. A protest capable of shutting down O'Hare doesn't just happen by accident. I'd like to know who that somebody is, and what he's trying to accomplish."
"Sounds like you're asking a question, sir," Norbert said.
"Yes, and I will get an answer."
* * *
Two hours later, Aaron finally drove into the parking lot of the Rosemont Tower Hotel. He had become so irate with the traffic, he was muttering and scowling like a pirate. Norbert was huddled against the far side of the cab, as far from his boss as he could get.
The sight of his new home cooled Aaron's rage a little. The hotel was twenty-two stories tall, but the top two stories were concealed with clever architectural tricks, creating the appearance of just twenty stories. The exterior surface was made entirely of copper tinted glass with seams so tight they were almost invisible. From a distance it appeared the dark glass was a single sheet that went from the ground almost to the top. It wasn't ordinary glass, either. The entire exterior of the building was bulletproof.
The secret twenty-second floor was the new headquarters of the Chicago cell. There were just three ways to get up there: a large service elevator that went down to the basement, an elevator from the first floor, and a ladder hidden inside a support column. Only Aaron, Smythe, and Nancy knew about the ladder. The Gray Spear Society had secrets within secrets.
The service elevator was the only way to move all the boxes up to the top. Aaron drove around to the back of the hotel and went down a ramp to a brown garage door. Norbert took a gray box from his pocket and pressed a button. The door rolled up automatically.
Aaron drove through a dimly lit underground area full of heavy machinery and pipes as big as two feet across. The labyrinthine layout of the basement was designed to baffle intruders and lead them away from sensitive areas. He stopped briefly at a steel wall. Norbert pressed a second button, and the wall folded like an accordion.
Aaron parked in front of an elevator with a door ten feet tall and fifteen feet wide. The secret parking lot held two dozen other vehicles, ranging in size from motorcycles to a short bus. The team used them for missions. Personal cars were usually kept in the outdoor garage attached to the hotel where the access was more convenient.
Aaron and Norbert got out. After being trapped in the van for hours, it felt good to stretch his legs. Aaron pressed a button that caused an electric winch to open the door of the elevator.
He and Norbert loaded boxes into the elevator until it was at capacity. Aaron closed the door. He looked up at a hidden camera in the ceiling and waved. Hopefully, Jack was watching from his security booth and would activate the elevator. Aaron held the two, three, five, and seven buttons for three seconds. The special code served as an additional security measure. The elevator began to rise.
Aaron imagined security scanners sending invisible beams of particles through his body. The elevator was equipped with sensors capable of determining the caliber of a bullet inside the chamber of a concealed gun. By the time he reached the top, Jack would have a complete inventory of the weapons Aaron was carrying. More importantly, the system would detect any bugs on his clothes.
The elevator door opened. He walked into a chamber with solid concrete walls painted white. Overhead panels produced enough white light to make him squint. The only furniture was a wicker couch with thin white cushions. There was no place to hide in here.
Jack sat behind a window made of bulletproof material six inches thick. Light gleamed from his bald head. His blue eyes were focused and intense as always. He wore a plaid shirt cut in a Western style.
"Hello, sir." Jack's voice came through overhead speakers.
"Come help us," Aaron said. "The elevator is full of boxes and there are more in the basement."
"Yes, sir."
Jack left his security booth. He came around to a heavy steel door on the side of the entry chamber and opened it from the other side. He wore blue jeans and cowboy boots. A .45 caliber revolver was in a holster slung low on his hip.
Aaron grabbed a box which was labeled "science." He went out into the hallway.
The walls of headquarters were painted gray, but the floor and ceiling were covered with metallic tiles. The tiles had a rainbow sheen and a granular texture. In terms of cost per ounce, the exotic material was as expensive as gold.
The science laboratory was directly across the hall, and Aaron pushed open the door. Kamal was standing in front of a very complex piece of equipment made mostly of stainless steel tubes and small glass portals. He was a native of the United States, but his parents had come from Southern India, and his skin was very dark. He wore a white button-up shirt, brown slacks, and polished black leather shoes. He prided himself on being the best dressed member of the team. Today, the top button of his shirt was open, a sign of great distress. The move had been difficult for everybody.
Aaron put the box on a table and looked around the laboratory. Some of the equipment had been unpacked, but most was still in crates. At this rate, it would take a week for Kamal to finish moving in.
Somebody else was hiding behind the equi
pment that Kamal was working on.
"Check the vacuum pump now," Smythe said.
"The indicator is still red," Kamal replied. "Are you sure it's on the 220 volt circuit?"
"Pretty sure."
Aaron walked over and saw his second in command kneeling on the floor. Smythe was wrestling with thick electrical cables, and he seemed irritated.
He looked up. "Oh, hi, sir."
He had hair the color of rust, but it was cut so short it was hard to tell. His eyes were as blue as the summer sky. A strong jaw, beefy shoulders, and a tapering waist made him look like a comic book hero. He wore a gray T-shirt and jeans.
"Maybe Nancy should handle the high voltage wiring," Aaron said. "I don't want you to electrocute yourself."
"Nancy has ten thousand other tasks on her plate right now. I'll figure this out, sir. It's not that complicated."
"If you say so. Still, rubber gloves might be a good idea. You may have an abundance of useful skills, but last I checked, you're not an electrician."
"Yes, sir."
Aaron went back to the elevator and grabbed another box. This one was labeled "computer."
He carried the box down a long corridor with doors on either side. He walked into a large open area that was intended for training and exercise. A few blue mats were on the floor, and one of the stair climbers was turned on, but the rest of the equipment was still packed. There was a lot of open space, enough for a short running track. The cell occupied the entire top floor of the Rosemont Tower Hotel. They could afford to be a little wasteful with square footage.
Aaron went through an open doorway into the computer room. Piles of disconnected computers and other technology components were scattered across the spacious floor. The twins possessed tons of equipment. Most of it would be mounted in racks that ran along the walls.
Bethany was working behind one of the racks. He assumed she was Bethany because she was wearing an ornate diamond necklace with a huge pendant, known as the Eye of Satinia. Her skin looked deeply tanned but that was her natural color. Silky black hair flowed down her back. She had been born an Arabian princess, and the shape of her nose signaled her Middle-eastern heritage. As always, she wore a plain white shirt and a pleated red skirt. Her feet were bare. Aaron had seen her wear shoes only a few times in the many months he had known her.
