Tricks and Traps (Gray Spear Society Book 7)

by Siegel, Alex

  "How much time do we have?"

  "If that gas reaches an ignition source, the whole building could go up like a giant bomb!"

  "OK." She lifted her hands in surrender. "We'll evacuate."

  She started giving orders to the other officers. With impressive efficiency, she organized a complete evacuation. Soon, people were streaming out of the casino into the parking lot.

  Norbert joined the crowd.

  * * *

  Smythe monitored the evacuation from the surveillance room. The many displays showed everything that was happening in the casino. He was glad to see most people were leaving quickly. When he noticed some of the guards doing the same, he was spurred into action.

  He spoke into the microphone, "All security personnel, do not leave the casino. Continue to protect the vault." All the guards carried radios and would hear his voice.

  Some of them turned around, but others continued towards the exits.

  "The rumors of a gas leak are false," Smythe added. "Remain near the vault. If you leave, you will not have a job tomorrow. Management wants all security personnel to protect the vault. There is no gas leak."

  He stepped back to observe the reaction. This element of Aaron's plan was the most brilliant in Smythe's opinion. The guards were being forced to clearly demonstrate their loyalties. If they chose to protect the vault despite the risks, they would be siding with the enemy. Their reward would be death.

  About a third of the guards left.

  Smythe noticed a police officer playing one of the games in a room towards the back of the casino. A soul that needs saving, Smythe thought.

  * * *

  Norbert was almost at the front door of the casino when his phone rang. He stepped away from the crowd and answered it.

  "Hello?"

  "We have a problem," Smythe said. "A cop is trapped in a game. He's not leaving."

  Norbert grimaced. "Where?"

  "North-east corner. Stay on the phone, and I'll guide you. I have a map up here."

  Following Smythe's directions, Norbert walked back through the casino. He eventually arrived at a room painted a striking combination of orange and green.

  An officer in a blue uniform was frantically working the controls of one of the machines. The air was cool, but he was flushed and sweating.

  Norbert walked up and said, "Sir, it's time to go."

  The officer just shook his head and kept playing. His nameplate read "Parker." He had short, brown hair and a mustache.

  Norbert grabbed his right wrist and pulled his hand away from the controls. "Sir."

  "Hey!" Parker finally looked at him. "I'm in the middle of a game."

  "There is a gas leak. You have to get out of here."

  "Just let me play for another minute."

  Parker tried to pull his wrist free, but Norbert was much stronger.

  "If you stay," Norbert said, "you'll die."

  "I'll go. I just..."

  "You'll go right now."

  Parker looked back at the game longingly.

  "Do you have a family?" Norbert said.

  "Yes, but..."

  "A wife? Kids?"

  "A boy and a girl," Parker said.

  "Do you ever want to see them again?"

  Parker stopped struggling. "Yes."

  "I could drag you away," Norbert said, "but I won't. This is your opportunity to distinguish yourself in the eyes of God. Walk away from the corruption and death that infests this place. Rise above. Let His light guide you out."

  "What are you talking about?" Parker furrowed his brow.

  "Salvation. Why did you become a police officer?"

  "To help people. To give back to my community."

  "And I was sent to help you." Norbert released Parker's wrist. "Go back to your family and love them. They need you."

  Parker swallowed.

  "I have to go now. I pray you'll follow me. If you don't, your children will grow up without a father."

  Norbert slowly walked away. He didn't glance back.

  He called Smythe on the phone. "How do I get out of here?"

  "There is an emergency exit," Smythe said. "Take the next two rights, then a left. It's in a brown room."

  "Thanks." Norbert hung up.

  He heard footsteps approach from behind. He smiled as Parker caught up to him.

  "You saved my life," the officer said quietly.

  "It was my privilege."

  Norbert soon found the emergency exit. A sign warned of an alarm, but he opened it anyway. Nothing happened. Smythe had already turned off that system.

  Norbert emerged into the darkness behind the casino. He smelled food rotting in a nearby dumpster.

  "Get away from here," he said.

  "What's your name?" Parker said.

  "You don't want to know me. Please, go."

  Parker hesitated. Norbert feinted right and then went left. He snatched Parker's gun from its holster, clicked off the safety, and aimed it at the officer's face.

  Parker raised his hands in surrender.

  "Run!" Norbert roared.

  Parker ran off.

  Norbert tossed the gun into the nearby dumpster. It was nickel-plated junk, not worth keeping.

  He heard the slightest noise. He spun and grabbed Tawni by the arms with a powerful grip. The coarse fibers in her body armor felt rough against his palms.

  She squirmed. "How did you know?"

  "You're getting quieter," Norbert said, "but not quiet enough. Keep training."

  She pouted. He released her.

  "Who was that guy?" she said.

  "Just somebody who needed a little help remembering why he was put on this Earth." Norbert called Smythe on the phone and said, "Go."

  * * *

  Smythe exited the surveillance room cautiously. He sprinted down the empty hallway to a large office. Bright yellow upholstery covered all the furniture.

  He tossed a chair through a plate glass window. He climbed out onto the roof of the third floor and checked for threats reflexively. He was on the back side of the casino, which was relatively quiet, but he still expected the noise of breaking glass would attract attention.

  He quickly worked his way down the building, dropping from level to level. As soon as he touched the ground, he pressed a button on a remote detonator clipped to his belt.

  He walked off calmly.

  He imagined the explosive charge cutting the large gas line in the basement. Natural gas would flood the room and spread quickly from there. The magic ratio was fourteen pounds of air to one pound of methane. When this mixture found an ignition source, it would combust violently. The canister of burning camping fuel would be that source.

  A blue van with the words "Citizens Gas and Power" printed on the side drove up to Smythe. Norbert was at the wheel, and Tawni was riding shotgun. Smythe climbed in through the side door.

  As they were driving away, Tawni said, "That was easy."

  "It usually is when Aaron can plan effectively," Smythe said.

  They stopped at the edge of the parking lot near the exit. Norbert and Tawni rolled down their windows. A large crowd was standing in front of the casino at a respectful distance.

  The explosion disappointed Smythe at first. He was hoping to see a giant fireball rising to the heavens. Instead, the building just shuddered, and all the windows blew out.

  "That's it?" Tawni said.

  "Patience," he said.

  They waited and watched.

  Smythe noticed Norbert was grinning. "You seem very happy."

  "I saved a cop's life tonight," Norbert said. "Not just his body, but his soul. It reminded me why I do this job."

  "That's great."

  "And I killed two guys with my gift," Tawni said. "I filled their lungs with toxic darkness."

  Smythe glanced at her. Her eyes gleamed as she watched the casino eagerly. Her black hair and brown skin made her almost invisible in the dark van. He turned away.

  Smoke began to pour from al
l the windows of the casino.

  "That's it," he said. "Let's go home."

  * * *

  A phone call woke Cantrell. He had two women in bed with him, and he had to clamber over them to reach the phone.

  "Hello?" he said in a gravelly voice.

  "Did you hear the news?" Konstantin answered in his distinctive Russian accent.

  "No."

  "Your casino is in flames."

  "Huh?" Cantrell sat up and rubbed his eyes. "How?"

  "I presume your enemy came back to finish the job."

  "But there are sprinkler systems. The entire building is brand new, and everything is up to code. It's supposed to be fireproof." Cantrell shook his head in disbelief.

  "The facts are what they are," Konstantin said. "I had fourteen men in there, and all are presumed dead. I've lost a quarter of the Company in the last few days."

  "I feel your loss."

  "Do you really?"

  Cantrell didn't, of course. The lives of some scruffy mercenaries meant nothing to him.

  "I'll rebuild. I have plenty of money stashed away for emergencies."

  "Good," Konstantin said, "because you still owe me for this month, and I'm not in a patient mood. I'm sure you understand my unease. Considering the losses I've sustained, some additional compensation would be appropriate at this point."

  Cantrell had no intention of paying that bill. He had to survive on his savings for a while, and every penny was precious. Money was life in this game.

  "Don't worry. I always meet my obligations. What about my bodyguards?"

  "They'll stay with you," Konstantin said. "Until I get paid, I want to know where you are at all times. I heard you're flying out in the morning. Where are you going?"

  Cantrell was regretting his decision to use mercenaries as bodyguards. It gave Konstantin too much leverage. Cantrell had become a captive of his own employees.

  "San Diego."

  "Then to Mexico?" Konstantin said.

  "Probably. I'm not sure. Getting away from here is my first priority. If you want to get paid, it's in your interest to make sure I get to San Diego alive."

  "Noted."

  "Are we done?" Cantrell said. "I have to go to the airport in four hours. I'm trying to get as much sleep as possible."

  The phone clicked.

  Cantrell hung up. He laid back in bed and stared up at the ceiling.

  His beautiful, golden casino was gone. For the first time in many years, he felt a tear on his cheek. He didn't know whether the cause was sadness or fear.

  * * *

  Aaron woke up when he sensed somebody in his bedroom. He cracked open his eyelids. Two identical women were standing at the foot of his bed. Their eyeballs glowed faintly in the darkness.

  He turned on the light and saw Bethany and Leanna. Smoky gray metal encased their hairless heads down to their shoulders, but the metal seemed to have some flexibility. From the shoulders down, they still had natural skin. Black crystalline spheres without pupils filled their eye sockets. The glow had come from deep within those spheres. The girls stood side-by-side in exactly the same relaxed position to form a perfectly symmetric pair.

  "It's good to see you up and about," Aaron said. "How are you feeling?"

  "Intelligent," Bethany replied. Her voice consisted of the pure notes and clicks of a pipe organ. It didn't sound the least bit human.

  "That's good, I suppose. What did God do to you?"

  "He enhanced our mathematical abilities."

  "I think He did more than that," he said. "You look like robots. Do you still have human brains?"

  The twins stood without moving, blinking, or exhibiting any emotion. Their bizarre eyeballs unsettled Aaron. He couldn't tell which way they were looking.

  "No, sir," Bethany said. "Our skulls contain no organic components." Her synthesized voice didn't ease his discomfort.

  "Are you ready to work?"

  "We're already working."

  "How?" He raised his eyebrows.

  "Electromagnetic interfaces allow us to interact with our workstations remotely."

  "Oh, right, you're wireless now. That was a cute trick with the phone."

  Norbert walked into the bedroom. He had been sleeping with the girls in the guest quarters. He wore a gray bathrobe, and his curly, brown hair was a mess.

  He gave both girls a hug at the same time. "You're finally awake! I was so worried."

  "We're very happy to see you, too," Bethany said without showing any happiness.

  "I imagine you're a lot smarter now, but can you still feel emotion? How different are you?"

  "We have capacity for only one emotion: love."

  "Oh." He furrowed his brow. "I suppose if you have to pick one, that's a good one. I'm still your boyfriend?"

  "Yes. God wants our relationship to continue in its current form. He preserved our sexual functions."

  Norbert appeared thoughtful.

  "I need you to help me capture Neville Cantrell before he gets away," Aaron said.

  "It will be done, sir," Bethany said, "but after the enemy is neutralized, we have to focus all our efforts on the project. We must hurry."

  "Why?"

  "The power cells in our skulls will run out of energy in six months. If the project isn't complete by that time, we'll shut down permanently."

  "You can't just plug in and recharge?" he said in a half-joking tone.

  She shook her head.

  Norbert had an expression of utter shock and dismay.

  "What if the project succeeds?" Aaron said.

  "We'll live much longer," Bethany said.

  "How much longer?"

  "Greatly exceeding a normal human life-span."

  He nodded. "Good. Are you hungry? Do you need anything before you get started?"

  "Our bodies are depleted and dehydrated. Norbert, can you feed us?"

  "Yes," Norbert said, "of course. Go into the kitchen. I'll be there in a moment."

  The twins left. Aaron got out of bed and wrapped a sheet around his naked body. He walked over to Norbert, who still appeared sad.

  "Six months." Norbert gazed at the floor.

  Aaron patted him on the shoulder. "Have a little faith. I'm sure they'll succeed, and then you'll be together for 'greatly exceeding a normal human life-span.'"

  "What do you think she meant by that?"

  "I'm not sure. It didn't make much sense. Her body is still human. I expect it will still grow old."

  Norbert pursed his lips.

  "Regardless," Aaron said, "your job is to take care of them, and it's an important job. You'd better get on it."

  "Yes, sir." Norbert left.

  Aaron's shoulders sagged. He shared the responsibility for protecting the twins with Norbert. God wouldn't forgive Aaron if two of the most important beings in the universe got hurt on his watch.

  As if I weren't under enough pressure, he thought.

  The good news was Aaron was about to close the book on the Cantrell case. If Bethany and Leanna were back in the game, it was effectively over. Using the twins to squash Cantrell was like using a sledgehammer to kill a mosquito.

  * * *

  "Nine first class tickets to San Diego," the ticket agent said. "That will be 16,282 dollars, sir."

  Cantrell gasped before handing over his credit card. He had expected the last second booking to be expensive, but sixteen grand was ridiculous.

  While the agent processed his card, he looked over his shoulder at the crowd in O'Hare Airport. Travelers were coming and going in waves despite the early hour of the morning. Cantrell was taking the first flight of the day. He searched the faces for possible threats. He didn't see anything suspicious, but it was hard to be certain with so many people around.

  The agent began to check their luggage. Cantrell had four women and four bodyguards with him. It was an awkwardly large group, but he couldn't leave any of his beautiful slave girls behind. The bodyguards weren't optional either. Konstantin had demanded that Cant
rell have plenty of "protection" until his bills were paid. They had thirteen bags between them.

  Finally, the processing was complete. With a cheerful smile, the ticket agent handed over a packet. "Your boarding passes, sir. Gate C-12."

  Cantrell double-checked the boarding passes. He instantly spotted a problem.

  "Hey, I booked the 8 AM flight."

  "Yes, sir," the agent said.

  She was a short, stout woman with curly, blonde hair. A pink veil was tied around her neck.

  "These say 2 PM," Cantrell said.

  The agent took back the packet. She flipped through the passes and frowned. "I'm sorry. I'm absolutely sure I put in the right flight number. The computer must've had a glitch."

  "Fix it. I'm not hanging out in the airport for seven hours because of a glitch."

  The agent typed on her computer for a minute. Her frown became more severe.

  "Is there a problem?" Cantrell said.

  "This thing is really giving me trouble, sir. The computer is rejecting all my requests. There is an error code, but it's just a zero. I've never seen anything like this."

  "Call your supervisor."

  The agent called another woman over. They spent several minutes trying different approaches. Cantrell didn't understand the technical jargon, but he could tell they weren't having any luck.

  "I'm sorry, sir," the original agent said. "We'll call technical support and try to get this straightened out. In the meantime, your luggage is already checked for the 2 PM flight. Security regulations require you take the same flight."

  Cantrell rolled his eyes. "Incompetent twit."

  "My deepest apologies, sir. I might be able to offer you some kind of compensation. Let me see." She typed some more. "Yes! The airline will pay for a meal for you and your entire party."

  "Airport food? In other words, we get to eat cheap crap for free."

  "As first class customers, you're entitled to fine dining. The computer recommends the Favoloso. It's an Italian restaurant in the Rosemont Tower Hotel which is five minutes away. They serve breakfast. The airline will also pay for your cab fare, of course."

  That idea didn't sound too bad to Cantrell. He had skipped breakfast in the rush to get to the airport. He used the web browser in his phone to look up the Favoloso. It had a five-star rating and rave reviews.

  "Fine," he said, "but after breakfast, we're coming back. By then, you'd better have the fucking computer fixed."