Star Angel: Dawn of War (Star Angel Book 3)

by David G. McDaniel

  All that should add up to make them very difficult to spot. A true UFO, coming in invisibly.

  In short order they’d landed in a remote clearing. A shudder gripped Jess as their descent stopped, Satori shut them down and the entire craft was silent.

  She was back on Earth.

  CHAPTER 24: GEARING UP

  It was another late night. No one had gotten much sleep since the Project team arrived in-country and set up. Drake looked around the room. A dozen agents at work, sleeves rolled up, screens flickering on tables and walls, remains of earlier tapas and empty espresso cups here and there. He held a fresh one firmly in both hands, savoring the warmth. Gently he blew across the porcelain rim, watching the steam waft off. He stood near the back of the small planning room, which was in fact the living room of a non-descript white-washed house at the edge of town, far out in the gypsy quarter, and even as he scanned the room his focus was far beyond it.

  For what was, in essence, such a simple operation, the planning and intelligence being brought to bear in that small house was incredible. They were there, in Spain, completely under the radar, no local awareness whatsoever. This could not, would not become an international incident. No foreign power, Spanish or otherwise, was involved in any way. What they were about to do was completely clandestine. Only their best and brightest were involved; there would be no other intervention if things fell apart. This was about to be a big, potentially noisy incident right there on Spanish soil.

  And they were on their own.

  His right-hand man, Bobby, sat nearby, clicking through images on a laptop. Looked up. “I think that one will work,” he said, confirming a decision they’d been trying to make.

  “Good,” Drake took a sip of the strong Spanish coffee.

  Good stuff.

  He projected his voice to the room: “All right,” he said. “This is it. Tomorrow we catch our rabbit.”

  * *

  Jess looked ahead through the trees, to the lights of Segovia just beyond the concealing darkness. It was going on four in the morning and they’d arrived near their first objective. Earlier Zac ran them in from the landed fighter, getting them from that remote location to here, close to the edge of town. During that brief sprint she once again thrilled to be in his arms, pressed against his bare chest, wind howling across her ears as he carried her over hilly terrain, up and down gullies, through the woods and across fields beneath the moonlight, the whole experience an absolute rush.

  She tingled in fresh memory of it.

  He stood beside her now as they held short, still within the depths of the woods, allowing him time to see what he could, or hear any dangers that might be waiting, or otherwise perceive the status of the area where they were headed.

  To her the town looked totally asleep.

  Around her the night air was crisp, spring chilly there in the Spanish foothills. Adrenaline at the thought of what they were about to do was making her heart race, her skin flush with heat; such that when the memory of being carried by Zac passed through her it was amplified to a shiver. Her life, it seemed, had become one big rollercoaster of emotion. Maybe that’s what being on the run was all about. Others had called her a hero. She could only think of herself as desperate. And desperation, she’d discovered, brought with it the most extreme emotions. Happiness. Fear. As she stood there, worrying of what was to come, processing the fact that she was back on Earth, standing on it—I’m standing on Earth—the steady, low-level nerves had her guts in knots. She was certain she must be growing an ulcer.

  She took out the Kel tablet. So far Zac had spotted no danger. Unlikely, of course, hours before sunrise in a friendly Spanish town, but they were preparing for everything. Not even police had been seen. Jess checked aerial views on the tablet thru the Reaver’s optics; tapped other information, marking their destination on the screen, determining distance and best approach. Between that and Zac’s own super-senses they shouldn’t be surprised by anything.

  “Looks good here,” she said. “Look good to you?”

  He sniffed the air. Concerned.

  “What is it?”

  “I smell something.”

  She tried to imagine what he could possibly smell, anything that could be identified as dangerous merely from its scent. That was, however, the advantage of Zac. He could sense things.

  “Cheese pants,” he said, very seriously. “I smell cheese pants.”

  It took her a second, but only a second, to smack him. He wasn’t giving that a rest.

  “Would you stop already?”

  He grinned and she couldn’t help smiling—despite a supreme effort not to. And the thought sprang to mind that Zac could indeed smell stinky pants, stinky anything with his greatly attuned senses, and she had to shove aside the embarrassing idea that she herself might stink, in some way; the same desperate worry she got every time she thought of his extreme abilities.

  What if her pants did smell like cheese?

  God!

  It was tough having a super boyfriend.

  She accelerated the moment. “Ready?”

  “Ready,” he took her hand and gave it a squeeze. Gentle, infinite power behind it. A large, warm, strong hand, attached to a strong arm, a strong shoulder, a wonderful, handsome boy who would—and could—protect her to the ends of the Earth.

  She smiled up at him in the moonlight.

  It was also awesome having a super boyfriend.

  Together they picked their way all the way to the edge of the woods, hand in hand, pausing just inside the enveloping shadows to gaze out into the lighted areas beyond. The buildings on this side of town were built one against the next, small one- and two-floor shops and houses, rambling along narrow sidewalks and cobblestone streets, none of which seemed to go in an exact straight line. Meandering, everything, street signs stuck to the walls.

  As they paused Zac seemed to be thinking. She wondered if he was about to crack another joke.

  “What’s a prom?” he asked.

  The question was unexpected, but the answer came readily. “It’s a school dance. Usually happens around this time of year. Bianca is missing it. I think it’s been on her mind.”

  “You’re missing it too?”

  She was, of course. “Yeah.”

  “Well, maybe we can have a little fun. It won’t be the same, I know, but let’s see if we can make this special.”

  She squeezed his hand. Her life had become defined by these moments. There was no more steady-state. No more routine. One minute she could be fighting for her life, the next enjoying a moment like this. And so she was learning more and more to be in the moment. To deal with what was in front of her. Right now they were in Segovia, about to have a day of touring the sights, much later that night it was the club and a few moments of normalcy before the action began.

  She tried to relish it.

  “Remember we’re from America,” she said, looking out at the city beyond. “Idaho. It’s the easiest cover.” Nani had managed to fabricate something that resembled American passports, but Jess hoped they didn’t have to show them. If it came to that, if they actually had to produce the fake IDs—whether they passed scrutiny or not … they were already in trouble. Her goal was to remain as inconspicuous as possible.

  “You know where we’re going?” asked Zac.

  She checked the tablet, peered across to the corner they would turn down, matched the street she was seeing live to the images on the screen, committed it to memory and put the tablet in its temp satchel. Where they needed to go was down at the next corner and a few blocks in; the small boutique Nani and Bianca had researched and determined was the best place for them to get the things they’d need for the club, and for the day there in Spain. The store was small and Nani could kill the alarm, which meant they should be able to break in discreetly. Jessica’s Anitran clothes looked almost institutional and Zac, with no shirt and the ripped Kazerai pants, looked like he was rolling in from a brawl or an all-night bender. It wasn’t as
if they wore costumes, but neither did they look exactly like the touring American teens they would claim to be.

  “Yeah,” she said. “Let’s get there as quickly as we can.”

  They looked at each other. Again she squeezed his hand.

  “Let’s go.” And he led her from the woods.

  She felt at once liberated and … naked, walking into the lights, stepping at last onto the sidewalk then the cobblestone street and heading into the quiet town. Their footsteps echoed on the hard surfaces; too loud, it seemed, and the barred windows up and down the narrow street were so close she wondered how many sleeping people they might wake. She knew Spain was notorious for its late-night revelry. The people in those houses were no doubt used to people coming home in the wee hours, walking right by their windows, but it was still nerve-wracking. Everything seemed louder than it probably was.

  As if in response to her own thoughts, up ahead at the corner a trio of drunken boys staggered into view. They’d been talking in low voices but apparently Zac heard them in advance. Their appearance made her jump.

  “Pretend we’re drunk,” she said and altered her gait. He put his arm across her shoulder, leaned on her a little and pulled her to his side. She followed suit, putting an arm around his waist and starting to weave.

  The boys came their way, not because they saw them or expected a challenge, but probably because that was the way they were headed. In fact, it was only after they’d drawn a little closer that they even noticed Jess and Zac at all.

  “Buenas,” one of them mumbled, a polite greeting that had no need of any response. Jess was relieved this would be no more than a simple passing in the night. She pretended to be even more inebriated, almost to the point she barely saw them, and simply nodded her head against Zac’s side.

  “Hi,” he said as they kept walking. His voice made her jump and she squeezed him to be quiet. She didn’t look back to see if the boys turned. From the sounds of their shuffling footsteps they didn’t; just kept walking, and if they had any question of Zac’s greeting they said nothing.

  When they were out of earshot she whispered up to him, “Don’t speak unless we have to.”

  “Got it,” he said. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry,” she felt bad for correcting him, even for such a minor thing. “It’s no big deal.” They reached the corner and she thought to drop the drunken ruse, but it felt nice squeezing up against him, the feel of his warm, bare skin, and so she maintained it. He made no suggestion they do otherwise and they went along quietly, walking with his arm around her shoulder, hers around his waist, holding each other close.

  Soon they were in sight of the boutique.

  “There it is,” she said softly. The town was deathly quiet. No more people out and about. Any bars or clubs still open must be further away. The club they were going to later that night was on the other side of town, far out on the outskirts.

  “Bee-a-u mond-eh,” Zac tried to read the stylishly scripted sign over the door of the boutique.

  “Beau Monde,” said Jess. “Beautiful World.”

  “Spanish?”

  “French.”

  “French?”

  “Another country, another language.”

  “This world is so interesting.”

  A few more casual steps and they were standing at the front door. Clothes displays were in the window, more inside in the darkness, everything covered with heavy bars.

  “We should get in quickly,” she said. “I don’t want to get caught standing out here in front of it.” Anxiously she looked up and down the street. There were dark corners in all directions. Someone could come around one at any moment.

  “Push it in?” asked Zac. He stepped to the door and was looking it over. There were a pair of heavy deadbolts, plus the knob. Jess didn’t really want to “break” anything, but they had to get in. Sure Zac could smash down the door, bend the bars, knock in a window—hell, he could walk right through the wall. But she wanted to leave no mark.

  Or as little as possible.

  She came closer and looked over the locks. “Those,” she pointed to the deadbolts. “If we keep the door on the hinges we can at least close it and make it look normal while we’re inside.”

  Zac placed his palms experimentally on a few flat surfaces.

  “Be careful—”

  He pushed in the door. Ever so gently yet … Pow!Pow! the deadbolts ruptured with a frighteningly loud double crack that echoed down the street. Jess cringed, then noticed the door was, as desired, totally intact. Just little notches broken out where the knob and bolts had been. It creaked inward on its hinges and she could see if they closed it back there would little evidence of forced entry.

  Her breathing settled, and as she replayed the sharp sounds in her mind she realized the pops were brief and probably not as attention-grabbing as she thought.

  “After you,” Zac held out a hand. She entered the darkened store and he followed.

  Across the threshold he turned and closed the door behind. It fit nicely back into the frame and looked totally closed and normal, even up close. Jess was impressed. No one outside should notice.

  She turned her attention to the interior of the small boutique. Light from the street cast deep shadows across racks of displays, distorting shapes, making the fancy mannequins look ghoulish. For an instant it was creepy, a little scary, and she shook off those initial, childish reactions.

  “What do we need?” Zac asked. She looked back at him, standing tall behind her—so tall!—street lights shining around him from behind, defining his muscled silhouette.

  And suddenly new fears took hold. Practical fears. That they wouldn’t find anything to fit him.

  “How tall are you?” she asked, as if realizing his size for the first time. Damn! She shook her head. Zac didn’t know how tall he was. Taller than most Spanish men, she was sure. Taller than most men period. Not only would it be hard to find him something, but he was going to stand out like a sore thumb. Of course she’d realized that but it was hitting home right then. He looked so big standing there in the small, dark foyer of the little boutique.

  Hopefully Nani would’ve thought of that.

  Anxiously she stepped over to a rack and began flipping through a bunch of men’s jackets, finding none that were even close enough to check.

  She needed to talk to Bianca.

  Fumbling a little she reached in the satchel and took out the tablet, thumbed it and dialed her up. Her friend’s image came on.

  “Are you at the store?” Bianca asked at once.

  “Yeah.”

  “Good. Your fashion consultant is standing by.” She smiled, both eager and excited.

  “I’m worried about Zac,” Jess spoke to the screen as she went over to another rack and began looking. “This isn’t a big place. The stuff in here is nice, but there isn’t a lot.” She glanced at Zac, who remained standing near the door. “This isn’t Big and Tall. Not a lot of stuff for guys his size.” It occurred to her this was the second time she was dressing Zac, with a little help from her friend.

  Like we’re playing with dolls.

  On the tablet screen Nani came into view behind Bianca. “I thought of that,” she said, confirming Jessica’s hope. “I picked this place because they have some items in inventory that should fit. I tried to pick the best possible place that would cover it.”

  “What do they have?”

  Nani and Bianca proceeded to talk her through finding the items she would need. After a little looking Nani was right; there was stuff hidden in there. They did Zac first, managing to find among the selections two full outfits. Jess talked to the girls on the tablet, alternating between holding it so they could see the clothes and shining the light of its screen so she herself could see. Bianca instructed her on what to try then viewed it on Zac. Jess didn’t dare turn on any lights in the shop but their system worked. For the day in the city they found him a cool pair of jeans, a nice V-neck T-shirt that looked great on
him (he almost looked as amazing in the shirt as out of it), and an even cooler Italian leather jacket with shiny zippers. When they were talking about the jacket Zac was fascinated that here was yet another nationality with a different style and language. They were in a French-named store, in Spain, picking out an Italian jacket. Jess couldn’t tell if he was laughing with them or at them at that point.

  To go with it they got him a really nice watch, a fat chrome Breitling that looked great on his wrist—Bianca insisted he needed one, that it was the only real accessory for a guy and super important—then there was a scary moment with shoes, but after a few tense failures they got a pair of nice leather boots that fit, which Bianca agreed would work for both the daytime outfit and the one for the club.

  And the club outfit … When Zac had it on and was modeling Jess felt the urge—actually felt an impulse she had to control—to grab him right there. Say goodbye to the girls, turn off the Kel tablet and take him to the ground. It was a suit and vest combo and it was absolutely gorgeous. Again an Italian job, just the right shine, perfect cut (good, because they had no tailor), and he filled it out like a stud. Even Nani was speechless, and for some reason Jess found it amusing, more than anything, to watch the reaction of the geeky scientist, peering over Bianca’s shoulder on the small screen as she held the tablet on Zac so both could see.

  Once they’d done Zac he went back to the front and took up a sort of guard, mostly just sitting and waiting, and Jess got down to business. Or, rather, Bianca got down to business. Jess could see the enthusiasm in her eyes as her friend walked her through item after item, trying this or that combination, giving the advice she so desperately loved, crafting her “Project Jessica” into a club goddess. The key was the dress, of course, and unlike Zac there were many options in the boutique to choose from. Jess was the perfect size for all the awesome, skimpy outfits. They went through so many she began to get short with her friend, hurrying her along as daybreak was coming, and when Bianca finally decided with great zeal on what, to Jess, was the simplest, smallest black dress in there she threw up her hands. “All that for this?” But Bianca loved it. Nani, too, approved, and even Zac came over from the shadows to see what all the commotion was about. “Nice,” he said, eyeing Jess as she stood there in the simple, little black dress, feeling silly.