Blood Relation (Arcane Casebook Book 6)

by Dan Willis

  Hanging up, he called Andrew Barton’s private number. After a few rings, Gary Bickman’s cultured voice came on the line.

  “I need Mr. Barton out at the Brooklyn Tower,” he explained. “There’s trouble.”

  “I’m sorry, Alex,” Bickman said. “But Mr. Barton got a call this morning from Washington. Apparently someone in the government wants to talk to him about wireless power transmission.”

  That was a ruse to get Barton out of town and Alex knew it.

  “Can he be reached?”

  “I can leave a message at his hotel,” Bickman said. “And I’ll give him your message should he call.”

  It was all Alex could do, so he thanked Bickman and hung up. He was about to call Iggy when Nicholson reappeared at the vault door.

  “Your German’s dead,” he declared. “And I found the real guard. His body was stuffed in the broom closet.”

  Alex set down the phone and headed for his gun locker.

  “How’s John?” he asked.

  “I’m fine,” John’s voice came from outside. “I got worse than this in the war.”

  Alex opened his gun locker and swore.

  “What’s the matter?” Nicholson asked.

  Alex stood for a moment, his mind working overtime.

  “We can stop the Germans if we burn out their radio transmitter,” he said at last.

  “That’s quite the arsenal you’ve got, Lockerby,” Nicholson said, suddenly behind him. “How about we just shoot them?”

  Alex shook his head.

  “The power room is big and open,” he said, taking his Thompson sub-machine gun down. “They’re sure to have someone watching the elevator, so they’ll know we’re coming in plenty of time to take cover.”

  He passed the gun to Nicholson, along with two loaded drum magazines. The last time Alex had used the Thompson, he’d had the straight, military-style magazine and he’d run out of rounds. The drums had a much higher capacity.

  “So what’s the plan?” Nicholson said, loading one of the drums.

  Alex took down his Browning A-5 shotgun and a box of shells, pouring the shells into the left-hand pocket of his suit coat.

  “I figure there are at least five of them up there,” Alex said, remembering the strangely aggressive work crew that had been at the tower earlier. “All we need to do is get into the little hall where the elevator lets out. There’s a pillar in the middle of the room that holds the metal plates that connect this tower to Empire Tower. If I can get the plates wet, it will send a power surge through the system and fry the German radio equipment.”

  I hope.

  “How are you going to get to something in the middle of the room while five Nazi spies are shooting at you?” Nicholson asked. “And where are you going to get water?”

  Alex turned toward his work bench. One of his side jobs was engraving runes in glassware for Charles Grier and Linda Kellin. He set down his shotgun, pulled out a drawer and removed five glass test tubes with rubber stoppers.

  “Once we take the hallway, I’ll use the shotgun to break the glass covering the plates.” He held up the test tubes. “I’ll fill these with water in the guard’s washroom, and once the case is broken, I’ll just throw these at the plates.”

  “And hope you get lucky?” Nicholson said with a raised eyebrow. “What about those five guys who’ll be shooting at you?”

  Alex shrugged as he picked up the shotgun.

  “The wall is made of cement blocks,” he said, “so we don’t have to worry about them shooting through it. And I hope they’ll be busy taking cover while you shoot at them.”

  Nicholson shook his head and sighed.

  “All right” he said, pulling the charge lever on the Thompson to rack the first round into place. “Let’s go.”

  “There are still two minor problems,” Alex said, moving the secretary cabinet that stood next to his workbenches. He opened the top and pulled out a folder that contained a stack of pre-written runes. “The glass case that covers the plates was made by Andrew Barton, so it’s unbreakable.”

  “That’s your idea of a minor problem?” Nicholson said, his voice going up a bit. “What’s the other problem?”

  “I put a rune on the case that will prevent water from coming anywhere near it.”

  Alex went back to his workbench and took out four of the shotgun shells. Working quickly, he wrapped each shell in one of the rune papers and lit them with his lighter.

  “Spellbreakers,” he explained.

  “Aren’t those illegal?” Nicholson asked.

  “Completely,” Alex said, loading the rune shells into the A-5. “I figure if I can hit the glass, the reaction will shatter it. Should knock my rune plate away as well.”

  “And if it doesn’t?”

  “Then we use your plan,” Alex answered. He picked up the shotgun and racked a shell into the chamber. “Shoot ‘em.”

  Nicholson just shook his head.

  “Great,” he said with mock enthusiasm.

  Alex knew the elevator bell would chime before the door opened, announcing their arrival to anyone keeping watch. It would have been quieter to take the stairs, but the tower was ten stories high and he simply couldn’t afford the time it would take to climb one-hundred and seventy steps.

  “Kneel down,” he told Nicholson, dropping down as the car began to decelerate. “If whoever’s on guard shoots first, he’ll probably shoot level with his arm.”

  The bell dinged and Nicholson dropped down.

  The door opened on an empty hall. The block wall with Alex’s chalk door looked just as it always had. Alex surged up, launching himself out the door. As he passed into the hall, Alex saw a startled man in a blue suit. The man raised a pistol and fired, but he hadn’t expected Alex to leap out and he missed.

  Slamming into the block wall, Alex raised the Browning and fired. Too late he remembered that the first four rounds in the shotgun were his spellbreakers. The blast caught the man in the side, but the buckshot made a mess of him and he went down like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

  Ignoring him, Alex ran to the end of the short hall. In the power room around the corner, a chorus of voices began yelling all at once. Since it was all in German, Alex ignored it. Taking a deep breath, he ducked around the corner. The room was still strewn with construction supplies and several men were taking cover behind the breaker boxes. He could see heavy wires running from one of the boxes to the spiral stair that led to the observation platform. A bullet hit the wall just above his head and showered him with bits of broken concrete.

  “How many?” Nicholson said as Alex jerked back his head.

  “I saw three,” he said, “but there’s bound to be more.”

  “Could you see the case?”

  Alex nodded.

  “Cover me.”

  Nicholson backed up from the wall and took two tentative steps to the side. Shouldering the Thompson, he leaned forward and let off a blast from the machine gun. As he fired, Alex knelt and leaned around the corner. The glass case containing the power transfer plates was right where he expected, and he could see someone crouching behind it.

  “Two birds,” he whispered, then raised the Browning and shot the glass. It wasn’t the most accurate shot he’d ever made, but it didn’t really have to be. He felt a wave of magic slam into him just before the spellbreaker destroyed Barton’s protection spell.

  “Down,” Alex yelled, retreating behind the wall.

  In the room beyond, the case exploded, sending fragments of glass in all directions. Alex’s ears rang from the sound and Nicholson took several steps down the hall despite being protected by the concrete blocks of the hall corner.

  When Alex could hear again, the sound of screaming filled the air. He risked a quick check of the room and found that the men he’d seen before were scrambling for cover. All of them had cuts on their exposed skin, but the man who had been next to the case was covering his bloody face with his hands while he rolled on the groun
d. He was the one screaming.

  Focus, he admonished himself.

  The brass plaque with the barrier rune on it lay on the floor a dozen feet from where the glass case had been. It only had a range of about four feet, so it wouldn’t interfere with Alex’s plans.

  Someone was shouting down from above and one of the less-wounded turned to look directly at Alex. Ducking back, Alex pulled one of the water-filled test tubes from his pocket. He stood and side-stepped like Nicholson had, keeping the corner between him and the gunmen.

  Taking a deep breath, he cocked his arm back, stepped around the corner and threw. Almost immediately a shot clipped the cuff of his coat sleeve, tearing out a chunk of fabric. Alex didn’t even notice as he watched the glass tube sail through the air. It arced perfectly, coming down right toward the open pedestal with the transfer plates.

  And then it shattered.

  As Alex watched, the water spread out and began running down the outside of an invisible barrier well away from the transfer plates.

  28

  The Path of Least Resistance

  Fragments of concrete exploded from the block wall beside Alex’s face and sharp bits cut his cheek. The pain pulled Alex out of his surprise and he jerked back behind the wall.

  “What happened?” Nicholson said, reloading the Thompson with the second drum.

  Alex shook his head, his mind scrambling to figure out how his barrier rune could still be working. He’d confirmed that the brass plate had been blown across the room by the shattering of Barton’s protection spell, so how was there still a barrier?’

  “I don’t know,” he admitted at last. “The barrier is still protecting the transfer plates.”

  “English, Lockerby,” Nicholson said, leaning out to fire a quick burst. Several shots came back, shattering against the block wall.

  “My plan won’t work,” he said. “The magic is still protecting the case.”

  Nicholson ducked out for half a second.

  “I think they retreated,” he said, then ducked out again, pulling back just as another shot rang out.

  “Not far enough,” Alex said.

  “There’s a guy on the staircase in the back of the room,” Nicholson reported. “The one behind the case is down. I think he’s dead. The others must have gone up the stairs.”

  “Their transmitter has to be up there,” Alex said. “There’s an observation platform with a view of the river.”

  “Fort Hamilton is right on the river,” Nicholson confirmed.

  “As long as they’re up there they can sabotage the Army’s weapons test,” Alex said, trying to keep the details vague. “They can kill a lot of people if we don’t stop them.”

  Nicholson ducked out around the corner, then quickly back. Two shots rang out, coming very close to hitting the detective.

  “The guy on the stairs is looking down from above,” he said. “I can’t see very much of him, but he can see this entire corner. There’s no way we can get to those stairs without getting shot.”

  “What if you cover me?”

  Nicholson shrugged.

  “I can probably make that guy keep his head down for a few seconds, but what are you going to do when you get there?”

  He had a point. There were at least three people up on the observation platform, maybe more if they’d spread out to the new roof. Nicholson could cover him to the stairs, but what then? Even if Alex could reach the spiraling metal stairs, he’d never make it to the top without being cut down.

  He needed a plan.

  “Okay,” he said, thinking quickly. “If you cover me, I can probably make it to the power transfer pillar.”

  “I thought you said that was out,” Nicholson said.

  “I put a rune on the glass a few days ago,” Alex said, remembering how the first rune he’d used had lasted longer than he expected. “It’s obviously still working, and the piece of glass with the rune on it must have fallen down into the box. As long as it’s there, I can’t use the water to fry the radio.”

  “So what do we do?” Nicholson asked. “Wait for the cavalry?”

  Alex shook his head.

  “No telling how much time we’ve got left. We have to kill that radio right now.”

  “Great,” Nicholson said. “Do you have a new plan for how to do that?”

  “Same plan,” Alex said, stepping back so he could see the broken case but not the metal stair. “If I can get to the pillar, I can cancel the rune. Then the plan will work.”

  “You’ll be exposed out there,” Nicholson said. “I can cover you till you get there, but I don’t know how much ammunition I’ve got left.”

  “Use short bursts,” Alex said, tossing his hat onto the floor next to the shotgun. “Once I’m in position, I’ll signal you to cover me while I cancel the barrier rune.”

  “For the record, I hate this plan,” Nicholson said. “If I let you get yourself killed, I’ll never hear the end of it from Lieutenant Pak or the Captain.”

  Alex laughed at that.

  “Just tell them you couldn’t talk me out of it,” he said. “They’ll believe that.”

  Nicholson moved up to the corner and held up the Thompson.

  “Ready?”

  Alex nodded, and the detective ducked around the corner, firing as he brought the weapon to bear. As soon as he moved, Alex bolted across the room. He passed inside the ring of breaker boxes and dropped down behind the pillar that held the power transfer plates. No sooner had he made it than shots rang out from the stairs, pelting off the pedestal and the nearest power box.

  On the floor just beyond was the dead German who had been next to the glass case when it exploded. His face was turned away, something Alex was grateful for since there was a large puddle of blood under the dead man’s head.

  Being careful not to cut himself on the fragments of the broken case, Alex slid along until he was near the south end of the pedestal. As he moved, he felt the barrier rune pass over him. It had lost much of its energy, but was still plenty strong enough to push his jacket away when the water-filled test tubes reached it.

  Muttering a curse, Alex pulled the tubes from his pocket and left them on the floor so he could move further inside the protective sphere of the barrier rune. Sweeping the broken fragments of the case away, he got to one knee so he could stand up and grab the shard with the rune on it.

  “Go,” he called to Nicholson.

  A shot rang out from the stairs and a bullet caromed off the top of the pedestal, making Alex flinch. The detective fired in answer, sending a burst of rounds clattering off the metal stair. From that direction came a shouted word in German, which Alex took to be a curse. At least one of the detective’s bullets had found a target.

  Not pausing to think about that, Alex quickly rose up so he could see over the side of the pillar. The silver transfer plates were exactly where they should be and Alex reached out, trying to sense where the bit of case with the rune on it had landed. He felt it immediately, but when he opened his eyes, he didn’t see a shard of formerly-shatterproof glass. The still-working rune was the one he’d put directly on the transfer plate last Friday. He’d heard of runes exceeding their normal time limits, but never by two whole days.

  “Get down, you idiot,” Nicholson yelled as he fired another burst from the Thompson.

  A bullet hit the transfer plate just to Alex’s left, leaving a white scratch behind. A second round caught him in the arm, tearing into his left bicep and forcing him back behind the safety of the concrete pedestal.

  “You all right?” Nicholson called from behind the block wall.

  “Yeah,” Alex said, pressing his handkerchief to the hole in his arm. It was a lie, but not because of his aching, bleeding arm. In order to cancel the barrier rune, Alex would have to touch the spot where it had been cast. Unfortunately that spot was on a metal plate conducting enough electricity to power the south end of Brooklyn. If he touched it, the discharge would cook him in a split second.

  Hi
s plan to generate a power surge by throwing water on the transfer plates was finished.

  “Did it work?” Nicholson called.

  Alex didn’t answer. He needed a new plan and he needed it now.

  Peeking out from behind the pedestal, Alex looked at the spiral stair. It was just a metal helix that ran up into the ceiling with solid metal steps winding around it. Located at the far end of the room, beyond the ring of breaker boxes, Alex doubted he could make it without being shot repeatedly.

  Barton had taken him up onto the observation deck during the tower’s final test, so Alex knew that above the stair was a metal balcony, and behind that was the roof. If he guessed right, the Germans had the radio set up on the observation deck. Whoever was operating it would be there, obviously, but it wasn’t big enough for more than a few people. Everyone else would be on the new roof, just waiting for Alex to stick his head up from the stairs so they could blow it off.

  Glancing up, Alex thought about trying to shoot through the roof. If he got lucky, he might take one or two of the Germans out. Of course, that was dependent on his having a gun.

  Looking back to the dead spy, Alex grabbed him by the arm and pulled. With his left arm useless thanks to having been shot, he had to brace himself and heave. Finally, the dead weight of the body slid over a bit and Alex could see a silver semiautomatic pistol on the far side of his body. Risking exposure, he leaned forward and grabbed the weapon, pulling back right as another round of bullets hit on the floor just beyond him.

  Raising the weapon, Alex aimed at the ceiling to the left of the stair and fired three times. He waited, but no sound of distress came from above, and there were no signs of sunlight filtering down through the spots where the bullets hit.

  “What are you doing?” Nicholson called.

  Alex ignored him as he cursed himself for a fool. Barton had the roof replaced with one made of metal because it slightly extended the range of the tower. Apparently the metal was thick enough to stop a bullet.