by Siegel, Alex
"Congratulations," Marina said with a smile. "You made the right decision."
"Marina is just visiting for a couple of days," Aaron said. "She is actually the commander of the team in San Francisco."
Sheryl faced him. "There are other teams? How big is the Gray Spear Society?"
"There are twenty-two cells in North America. About two hundred around the world. Collectively, we protect the planet."
She took a deep breath. She didn't know what to believe.
"Norbert is a legionnaire," Aaron said. "That means he's a field operative, trained to kill. You have the same job, and so do Tawni and Smythe. You're my soldiers."
"You really expect me to kill people?"
"You'll become an expert assassin. After we take care of some business, you'll get your first lesson. But the very first task is breakfast."
Sheryl didn't know how to cook. She had lived on the road and had eaten in restaurants for her entire adult life. To her surprise, Aaron volunteered to make breakfast for her and Marina. Norbert was already preparing his own meal.
"Did the twins eat yet?" Aaron said.
"No, sir," Norbert said. "I'll take care of them after I eat."
"Hurry. We're having a meeting soon, and then you're going out on an assignment."
"Assignment, sir?"
"You, Tawni, and Smythe will steal some Double Monkey machines," Aaron said. "We'll talk about it at the meeting."
Sheryl cocked her head. "Why are you stealing those machines?"
"Wait for the meeting."
What have I gotten myself into? she wondered.
Aaron made scrambled eggs with chopped onion and cheese mixed in. The dish was very tasty. Sheryl wondered what other surprising talents he possessed.
After the meal, Sheryl and Marina had cleanup duty. Sheryl cleared the table while Marina loaded the dishwasher. Aaron went to his office to deal with "paperwork."
Sheryl noticed again that Marina had pointed black fingernails. It was a strange choice for a beautiful woman who otherwise seemed to have good taste.
"Have you thought about trying a different nail polish?" Sheryl said. "Green would work with your eyes. Red would match your hair."
Marina smiled. "It's not nail polish." She held up her hands for Sheryl to examine. "Be careful. They're sharp."
Sheryl touched Marina's fingernails. The tips were like needles, and the edges were indeed as sharp as knives. The black color seemed part of the nail itself. It wasn't painted on.
"What happened to you?"
"It's a gift," Marina said. "Do you want to see the best part?"
Drops of clear liquid appeared at the tips of her nails.
"What is that?" Sheryl said.
"Venom. I have glands in my fingers."
Sheryl stared dumbly.
"We live in a different world," Marina said. "Get used to it."
"How can you keep all this a secret?"
"God demands it. Normal people can't know about us. Talk to Aaron. It's his job to explain these things to you."
Tawni walked into the kitchen. She was wearing a puffy, yellow shirt and a flowing skirt with a pattern of brown stripes. To Sheryl, she was hypnotically exotic and beautiful. Tawni's long, black hair had colorful beads in it.
"Congratulations," she said to Sheryl in passing.
Tawni poured herself a bowl of cereal.
Sheryl and Marina finished cleaning up. Marina wandered off to find Aaron.
Sheryl lingered behind and sat at the table with Tawni. "Hi." Sheryl smiled warmly.
Tawni snorted. "Men have been trying to get into my pants my whole life. I think you're the first woman. Is that pretty green dress for me?"
"I usually start a relationship by just being friends. Is that acceptable?"
"Sure. We'll be working together for the rest of our lives, so being friends is a good idea."
"Was Aaron serious about that?" Sheryl said. "Does he really expect me to do this forever?"
Tawni nodded. "You're a Spear now. That's an incurable condition."
Sheryl didn't like the implications of that statement. "What's your story? You already know mine."
"I'm a ghetto girl. I grew up with violence and poverty like a million other people in the 'hood. It's not a very interesting story."
"You turned out all right," Sheryl said.
"Thanks to Aaron and Wesley. They saved me from myself."
"Wesley?"
"The boy with the crazy blue eyes," Tawni said. "You met him the night we rescued you."
Sheryl remembered those eyes clearly. They had sparkled like crystals. "Aaron told me he's special."
"His gift is incredible. He heals minds and makes people see the truth. He ripped all the lies right out of my head."
Sheryl frowned.
"You don't believe me," Tawni said.
"That must be the twentieth impossible thing I've heard today. I'm starting to think everybody is playing a stupid trick on me. They want to see how much bullshit I can swallow."
"The first day is tough, but you're doing fine. For me, it was really bad." Tawni seemed sad.
"What happened?"
"I was a fool, and my mother got killed."
"Oh." Sheryl bit her lip.
"Listen." Tawni grabbed Sheryl's arm with a firm grip. "Do whatever Aaron tells you to do. Don't give him any shit. He knows the game better than anybody. He'll teach you how to survive."
Tawni was so serious it made Sheryl afraid.
Aaron leaned into the kitchen. "Meeting in ten minutes. Conference room. Both of you are invited."
"Yes, sir," Tawni said.
He walked off.
"Let me finish my cereal," she said. "I want food in my belly in case I have to work."
Sheryl stood up. "No problem. It was nice meeting you." She left.
* * *
Aaron looked at the men and women gathered around the conference room table. His four legionnaires were present along with Marina.
Having four legionnaires meant his team was complete. Every cell was supposed to have ten members, and now his did. He could stop worrying about recruiting. It was a strange feeling for Aaron who had never been part of a full squad. He had assumed he would always be short-handed.
He felt a different kind of stress now. Nine souls were depending on him for wisdom and guidance. They would follow him into Hell. If he failed as a commander, they would pay the price. The pressure to be perfect was a great weight on Aaron's shoulders.
"Sheryl," he said, "we are currently investigating the Super Double Monkey machines. Marina and I both believe there is something very wrong and dangerous about them."
"Why, sir?" Sheryl said. "They're just casino games."
"They're destroying lives, and they're shrouded in secrecy. That's two red flags. In the end, it may turn out to be nothing, but I have to be sure."
"You think an enemy of God is behind them? What does that mean? How does that work?"
"We'll talk about that later," he said. "Three machines are being delivered this morning by armored truck. We're going to hijack the truck. Smythe and Tawni will dress as police and be the primary operatives. Norbert will be backup. Here is the plan in detail."
Aaron pushed a sheet of paper across the table to Smythe.
"Yes, sir," Smythe said.
"Wait a minute," Sheryl said. "This is illegal."
That comment made everybody else smile.
"A lot of what we do is technically illegal," Aaron said.
"But what if we get caught, sir? I don't want to go to jail!"
"I'll get you out."
"How?" she said. "You'll bust me out?"
He shook his head. "I generally just use forged paperwork. Don't worry. Part of my job is cleaning up messy situations, and I'm well prepared. I have reliable contacts at all levels of government. My relationship with the police is particularly solid."
She frowned and appeared anxious but kept quiet.
"Get moving," he
said to Smythe. "You're on a time table. A squad car is waiting for you at the Calumet police station."
"Yes, sir."
Smythe, Tawni, and Norbert hurried out of the conference room.
"What about me, sir?" Sheryl said.
"Your training begins now. I'll start you in the gun range." Aaron stood up.
"Wait, I have a problem. I'm supposed to do a show in the Huhawira Casino tonight. I need to drive back to Wisconsin this afternoon at the latest."
He grimaced. "That's inconvenient." He pursed his lips as he considered the problem. "You'll do one final show. Tonight will be your most memorable performance ever. The Mistress of Mystery will vanish from the world in style."
"What does that mean, sir?"
"You're going to die on stage in front of a live audience. It will be a spectacular illusion. I'll let you work out the details. You can use me or Marina as an assistant if you want. She's an expert knife thrower, by the way."
Aaron saw comprehension in Sheryl's eyes. She grinned.
"Come on," he said. "I want to see how you handle a gun."
She followed him out of the conference room. Marina tagged along a pace behind.
Plastic, yellow earmuffs were hanging from hooks outside the gun range. Everybody slipped the bulky ear protection onto their heads. They opened a heavy steel door and entered.
There were three lanes with a maximum range of fifty yards. Weapons of all types were lying on shelves along the walls. They ran the gamut from tiny .22 caliber derringers to double-barreled shotguns and machine guns. Many boxes of ammunition were on the floor.
Sheryl looked around with wide eyes. "Wow. That's a lot of guns."
"We keep many more in the armory," Aaron said. "How much experience with guns do you have?"
"None."
"You've never fired a weapon?"
She shook her head.
His shoulders sagged. "At least you don't have any bad habits to break."
He grabbed a Glock 25 pistol from a shelf. It was a light, compact weapon, suitable for the hands of an amateur woman. The .38 caliber ammunition had relatively gentle recoil. He quickly loaded a magazine.
Sheryl stood back with an anxious expression. She was hugging herself as if she were cold. Marina stood near the door and appeared bored.
Aaron put up a paper target and ran it out to the far end of the range.
"Shooting a gun is easy," he said. "You just pull the trigger. Shooting accurately takes correct technique, and that's the point, isn't it? The bullet has to hit the target to be of any use."
He sighted down the barrel at the target. He emptied the magazine, firing fifteen bullets in rapid succession. He pulled back the target and saw fifteen holes around the bulls-eye. The grouping was two inches across which wasn't a good effort for him. That's what I get for rushing and trying to show off, he thought.
"How did you get so good, sir?" Sheryl said.
"I've been practicing every day for many years. I probably fired a million rounds in my life. I also became a better marksman when I received my gift. God wanted me to spit accurately, and that ability extended to my shooting."
"How did that work? Did God's face appear in the clouds? Was there white light and a choir of angels?"
"No," he said. "I felt His anger burning inside me like fire. It was very painful, but it made me strong. We call that God's breath. His rage focused on my jaw and transformed me. I never saw Him, but I knew He was with me."
"You're serious, aren't you?" She stared at him.
"Can you feel it in your belly? An exciting tingle. A rush of new power."
Her eyes widened. "I thought that was the eggs you cooked for me."
He laughed. "Let's get back to the lesson. It looks like Marina is getting impatient. I think she wants some of my time, too."
* * *
Tawni and Smythe were sitting in a police car and dressed as cops. She disliked the costume.
As a child, she had firmly believed that all cops were racist, lazy, corrupt cowards. Recently, she had softened her position. She now believed that many were racist, lazy, corrupt cowards. Wearing the colors for even just a few hours made her uncomfortable.
Unlike her costume, the police car was real. Smythe had driven it out of a station after signing a form, thanks to arrangements made by Aaron. The cracked upholstery smelled like coffee and sweat. Scuff marks were all over the plastic, rear seat. A computer terminal forced Tawni to sit with her knees to one side.
They were parked near the intersection of Highway 12 and Calumet. The neighborhood was a mixture of small homes and businesses. It was close enough to Chicago to be considered a suburb, but it wasn't a very nice one. The best thing she could say was the streets were wide and free of potholes. There was a gas station on one side of the avenue and a small office building on the other.
"What do you think of Sheryl?" Smythe said.
"She's soft," Tawni said.
"She handled herself well last night. She's brave. She's just not as physically aggressive as you."
Tawni shrugged. "I guess so. She hit on me this morning."
"Did that bother you?"
"I don't know how to feel. All the guys in my life are already taken. You have Odelia. Aaron has Marina. Norbert has the twins. Sheryl may be my only option."
"What about Jack?" Smythe said.
"I can't date a man who is shorter than me. It looks stupid. I'd rather be with a woman, and Sheryl is hot. I mean, if I'm going to be a lesbian, I could do a lot worse than her."
"I'm glad you have such an open mind."
"I like trying new things," she said. "It keeps life interesting."
A white armored truck with blue lettering drove past them.
"There it is," Smythe said. "Right on time."
He turned on the flashing lights and sirens. The police car shot forward as he pursued the truck. After a moment, it pulled over to the side of the road. He parked close behind it.
He and Tawni got out. They had belts outfitted with standard police gear and weapons, and in addition, they each had a gray spray can.
As they walked up to the truck, Tawni tried to peek through the rear windows. They were heavily tinted, but she caught a glimpse of a man in the cargo section. The standard procedure for an armored truck was to have a driver in front and a second guard known as the "hopper" in back. A solid steel wall separated the two sections.
Tawni spotted Norbert about thirty yards away. He was standing on the sidewalk in a brown business suit.
Smythe knocked on the driver's door.
The door cracked open and a guard with a blue cap peeked out. "What's the problem, officer? I wasn't speeding."
Smythe took his spray can from his belt and sprayed the guard in the face. White foam coated his eyes, nose, and mouth. The guard spat and tried to wipe it off.
Tawni quickly climbed onto the roof of the truck. Baffled air vents on top provided extra ventilation for the cargo section, a necessity on a hot day like today. She sprayed foam through one of the vents.
"How much should I use?" she said.
"All of it," Smythe said. "We have to make sure the hopper is unconscious. He has a radio."
When she ran out of foam, she climbed down. The driver had already fallen asleep. Smythe had pushed him to the far side of the cab and was taking his place.
Norbert jogged over. "That was easy. I thought hijacking an armored truck was supposed to be tough."
"Not if you're properly prepared," Smythe said. "Ride with Tawni."
Tawni ran back to the police car and took the driver's seat. Norbert got in on the other side.
The armored truck pulled away smoothly. Tawni followed close behind in the police car with the lights and siren off.
"What's your opinion of Sheryl?" Norbert said.
She gave him a dirty look. "I just had this conversation with Smythe."
"What was the conclusion?"
"I think she's soft. He thinks she's brave. I might
sleep with her. I haven't decided."
He turned away.
"What?" she said angrily.
"I'm a Catholic. I was taught homosexuality is..."
"A sin? Evil?"
"Something like that." He cleared his throat.
"And what does the Pope say about fucking two sisters at once? Isn't that bigamy?"
"Only if we're married."
She nodded. "Then it's hot, premarital sex instead."
"God commanded me to do it, so it isn't a sin in my case, and I'm not allowed to marry."
"How convenient for you. For your information, I'm very lonely. It's just me and my vibrator at night. I never considered a relationship with a woman before, but it's probably better than a relationship with nobody."
"I'm sorry," he said. "Do what you feel is right. I'll try not to pass judgment."
She exhaled. "Sometimes you can be so medieval."
"I was a monk once."
Eventually, Smythe drove the armored truck to an unused patch of land between a golf course and a water-filled quarry. A line of trees marked the edge of the golf course and provided some privacy. A black pickup truck was already parked in the dirt. Smythe and Tawni parked their vehicles next to it.
Norbert got out and hurried to the pickup truck. He started a gas-powered electric generator which was sitting in the bed. An orange extension cord ran between the generator and a circular saw. He slipped on a pair of protective goggles.
Smythe and Tawni stood back and watched.
Norbert started cutting into the armored truck with the saw, and the noise was awful. An impressive stream of sparks flew into the air as tungsten carbide bit into hardened steel. He was attacking the hinges on the back door.
"Careful!" Smythe yelled.
Norbert nodded.
After about fifteen minutes, the thick steel door fell out. He hopped back as it landed with a thud on the dirt. Finally, he turned off the saw.
Tawni could see the unconscious guard inside. Smythe climbed into the truck and checked the guard's pulse.
"He's alive," Smythe announced.
She moved in for a closer look. The cargo section contained three boxes made of galvanized steel. They were each about the size of a shopping cart basket.
She heard a stumbling noise.
"Hands up!" a man said.
The driver of the armored truck had woken up, and he was holding a gun. He was leaning against the side of the truck with his eyes half-closed.
