ONSET: My Enemy's Enemy

by Glynn Stewart

  “And any half-decent maintenance shop could do the install,” Warner said grimly. “Let me guess: they have a regional headquarters near Seattle?”

  “In Seattle,” Charles replied. “And two helicopters filed flight plans to leave their HQ two days before the attack, officially heading to Portland. There is no matching flight plan with Portland air traffic control for their arrival.”

  “I’m presuming they didn’t.”

  “They didn’t.”

  “I’ll grab my team,” David said grimly. “We can be in the air in ten.”

  “And do what, exactly?” Warner demanded.

  “Charles can give me an address,” the Commander told her. “I can take over that compound by midnight.”

  “Except that you would be running into a likely vampire den at night,” she pointed out. “And carrying out an attack on US soil without a warrant.”

  He paused and swallowed, nodding his acceptance. It was easy to get carried away in an emergency, but the Major was right.

  “We aren’t vigilantes or superheroes,” Warner said flatly. “Plus, your four people—seven if O’Brien goes with you—can’t secure, what, four floors of an office building?”

  “Six,” Charles agreed. “One server floor and then the top five of the building. In downtown Seattle.”

  “We’re going to have to take APs,” David said with a sigh. “I don’t like that. They’re not cops, but…”

  “But we don’t have enough cops and we can’t grab local police without violating an executive order,” Warner confirmed. “Get some rest, David. Take your team back to Seattle in the morning—I’ll have an Omicron circuit judge meet you there.

  “We’ll get our warrant. We’ll sweep the building. We’ll find the bastards—but we’ll do it right.”

  “Agreed,” David said fiercely. “You’re right, ma’am. We’re police, which means we do do it right. I should know better.”

  “Time limits screw with the best of us,” Warner told him. “I am not impressed with the Elfin for that bullshit.”

  Chapter 14

  Michael O’Brien had picked his hotel room carefully. The hotel was only a block away from the shattered conference center, and the staff had been happy to cooperate in giving him a room with a view of the building after he’d flashed an FBI badge.

  Now the big werewolf stood at the window, looking down the street at the wreckage and the yellow police tape fluttering in the cool morning breeze.

  “The building management wants to know when they can get in to start assessing for repairs,” Morgen Dilsner said from behind him. The techno-Mage was sitting in the chair at the room’s desk, checking through the various emails and voice mail regarding the whole mess.

  “We’re pulling our people out today,” Michael told him. “Check with the local OSPI office—I think their building is on the south end of downtown and half-empty right now after they were raided for HQ replacements.

  “If they’re okay with it, move the AP troopers there and have them set up an ops center,” he ordered. “We’ll hand it over to White when he arrives later this morning.”

  “We’re not sticking around?”

  “It’s White’s file,” Michael replied. “He doesn’t need me to hold his hand, and Warner wants us back on Campus as the fire brigade. We’ll stick around to talk to Justice Nabahe when she arrives, but then we’re back on the chopper heading back to Colorado.”

  The big man shrugged.

  “If nothing else, I’m still supposed to be on convalescent leave, and the doctors are starting to make threat about chains and locked cells,” he observed. “And we can’t justify having two ONSET teams in one place right now.”

  “They have a break in the case already?”

  “Someone to shake down for info, if nothing else. That’s what Nabahe’s coming here for. She should be at the OSPI office by eleven hundred, so let’s try and get the AP people moving by then.”

  “Can do.”

  #

  Like most of them, the Seattle office of the Office of Supernatural Policing and Investigation was a bland, generic building on the outskirts of the downtown area. Here in Seattle, that meant a ten-story building of steel and concrete built in the eighties, in the middle of a neighborhood of ten towers of the same style.

  Michael was met at the front desk by a harried-looking middle-aged woman in a primly pinstriped suit.

  “I am Catherine de Bergen,” she introduced herself. “I run OSPI Seattle, what the recent mess has left of it.”

  “There’s no problem moving the AP troops in?”

  “We have dormitories underground for a company or so,” she told him. “Normally, we have about thirty tactical police and have a team of ten or so on duty, but…”

  Michael nodded with a wince. The Seattle operation for Operation Sun Net had been run entirely out of local resources, as the local Black Sun cell had been a small one. Seattle had lost three Inspectors and over half of their tactical police, only to have half of their analysis and administration staff transferred back east to help cover everyone else’s personnel losses.

  No wonder de Bergen looked harried.

  “I understand,” he said quietly. “Everyone in Omicron is feeling the same way. We took one hell of a body blow.”

  De Bergen nodded, then shook herself.

  “Justice Nabahe arrived shortly before you; she’s setting up in the eighth-floor conference room,” she told him. “Commander White’s pilot checked in a few minutes ago as well. They’ve hit some ugly weather and are going to be delayed.”

  “I’ve got a copy of all of their data,” Michael told her. “I’ll talk to Jessica. We go back, she and I.”

  “She…didn’t sound enthused with you being in the warrant hearing,” de Bergen admitted.

  “I’m not surprised,” the werewolf said dryly. “Like I said, we go back.”

  #

  Justice Jessica Nabahe of the United States Supernatural Justice Circuit Court, more often called simply the Omicron Circuit, looked exactly like anyone familiar with her Navajo last name would have expected. Her long braided hair was going gray now, the streaks of silver woven through the braid only adding to the Judge’s sense of elegance and poise.

  She also, as Michael knew from past experience, could throw the levelest, coldest dark-brown gaze he’d ever encountered. He’d seen her eyes a warm shade of brown as she laughed happily, but that had been a long time before.

  The glare she gave him as he walked into the conference room on the eighth floor of the OSPI office was so dark as to turn her eyes nearly black.

  “My understanding was I was meeting with Commander White,” she said flatly.

  “His team’s been delayed by weather,” Michael told her. “I’ve been fully briefed and have an electronic copy of their documentation for you.”

  Nabahe sighed.

  “Give it to me,” she snapped, holding out her hand. He dropped the USB stick with the files into it, and she popped it into the laptop she’d set up. As she was starting to skim through the files, one long finger suddenly pointed at Michael.

  “You may as well summarize.”

  “Talon Security has purchased large quantities of the weapons, communications gear and body armor used by the attackers,” Michael explained quickly. “They have significant operations in Africa, with predominantly white Afrikaner forces. A lot of their people are ex–South African military, and we know they acquired decommissioned helicopters from the SANDF of the type used in the attack, though they aren’t supposed to have any armed ones inside the United States.

  “They have the means and capability to carry out the attack, and have a base in Seattle that could have been used for it. Lacking any major knowledge of the supernatural, they could easily have taken a high-value contract without realizing just what kind of opposition they would run into, which would be consistent with the operation and equipment we encountered.”

  “I see,” Nabahe said noncommitta
lly. “I see the research précis and the attached support file. Charles put this together, did he?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She sighed.

  “Don’t you ‘yes ma’am’ me, Michael,” she told him. “I may look my age, unlike you, but we both know who’s older in this room.”

  The Justice was in her late fifties. Michael was…older.

  “Since Charles put this together, not you, I’ll give our large friend the credit of assuming he’s not actively trying to mislead me,” she continued. “Unlike certain other files I could name.”

  “I didn’t put that one together either, I might remind you,” he said quietly.

  “No, you just used the fact I trusted you to sell me a pile of shit that failed to hold up in court,” Nabahe said with a sigh. “This isn’t getting rushed through, Michael. No matter what you have to say.”

  “We’re on a time limit,” he told her. There wasn’t much point in arguing over the old case—they’d had it out before, and she knew he’d also been sold a bill of goods by an Inspector determined to make a conviction. They’d got a search warrant and found nothing—and since the warrant had been executed by an ONSET team looking for someone who’d killed two local cops, they’d inarguably gone somewhat overboard.

  The end result had been unpleasant for Michael—and worse for the Justice who’d signed the warrant.

  “So I’ve been informed,” Nabahe said calmly. “It’s at the top of my priority list, Michael. But I’m not going to rush a warrant for you—or for White, or for Warner. I’ll go through your data and if I find reasonable cause, I’ll have White meet me here for the warrant. Tomorrow morning at the latest—I do understand the political climate.”

  “You’re never unreasonable,” Michael admitted with a sigh.

  “You of all people know better,” she told him with a chuckle. “White’ll get his warrant—but it’s my job to be certain.”

  Chapter 15

  David strode off the helipad at OSPI Seattle, waving for the ground team to move up quickly.

  “Get her in and out of the way ASAP,” he ordered quickly. “We have another half-dozen heavy transport choppers inbound over the next couple of hours. They’re in the same weather we were; let’s not make them hang out upstairs!”

  “Yes, sir!”

  The doors above the helipad folded shut, cutting off the rain as David turned to find Michael O’Brien waiting for him with Morgen standing next to him, both suited up and carrying bags.

  “You’re heading out already?” he asked.

  “Hoping we can squeeze out before your next wave arrives,” O’Brien confirmed. “Anti-Paranormals?”

  “Captain Narita’s entire company,” David replied. “They’re pulling Ward’s platoon back to Campus to reorganize—with his death, Warner doesn’t want to put them back in the field.”

  “And O’Neill is part of Narita’s company,” the other Commander said. “A full company?”

  “We’re locking an entire office building, and at least some of them will be armed,” David told him. “I’d rather have cops, but we have a distinct shortage of tactical teams right now.

  “Do we have a warrant yet?”

  “No. Nabahe is reviewing Charles’s package in digital form,” the older man replied. “We have probable cause, so we’ll get the warrant, but it’s her job to be sure.”

  “Warner pulled me up short on that,” David admitted. “I, of all people, should know better. I was a regular cop before you guys strapped body armor and an assault rifle to me and a magic sword decided I should wield it.”

  “The system gets weird when it comes to the supernatural, but the Constitution still applies,” O’Brien reminded him. “I’ve known Jessica Nabahe a long time. We haven’t always been on good terms, but she was a good lawyer and she’s a better Justice. She’ll see the same thing we do.”

  “I hope so. This isn’t the solidest of leads we’ve ever had, but if we can’t act on it, I don’t know what we’ll do.” David was more worried than he’d let anyone except O’Brien, his former team leader and the man who’d recruited him into ONSET, see.

  “Let Alston keep digging,” O’Brien advised. “Even if this falls through, she’ll only come up with more proof.”

  “And if the timeline runs out?” David asked quietly.

  O’Brien shook his head, glancing around to be sure everyone else was far enough away not to overhear.

  “Don’t let the timeline stress you out,” he advised. “Politics are politics, but the Committee knows we need the Elfin. Even if they signed off on a mass recruiting drive tomorrow, that would be a long-term solution.”

  The werewolf shrugged.

  “The Committee knows that if they put a seat at their table into the deal, the Conclave will sign in a heartbeat,” he admitted. “So, even if this deal gets killed by the Conclave, by the time things start going seriously wrong, the Committee will make whatever concessions they need to.”

  “I’d rather things didn’t have to go seriously wrong,” David told him.

  “Me too. So get this sorted before the deadline,” O’Brien replied. “Then trust Langley and Riley to hold it together; at least that pair recognizes the cost if this deal fails.”

  #

  There was still no word from the judge by the time the last of the heavy transport helicopters had arrived, disgorging the heavily armed men and women of Anti-Paranormal Company Six, the company assigned to David’s command.

  Each of the six helicopters could carry an entire platoon, but they’d flown with fewer people each to carry more gear—and provide a bit more breathing room over the flight up from Colorado Springs.

  “Captain Narita,” David greeted the company commander. “How are your people?”

  Narita was a gangling Asian man with an ugly scar across his face and left eye. His company had been with David and ONSET Nine when they’d launched the assault that had led to the capture of the demon Ekhmez.

  That capture had been a mistake in hindsight, but it had still been a feather in AP Six’s cap to pull it off at all—and there’d been none of the politics undermining them that the two supernatural teams involved had been caught up in.

  “Commander White,” Narita replied with a salute. “Congratulations on your promotion. My people are eager and ready to kick the asses of the bastards who killed Ward and the others.”

  “Normally, there’s an entire training program for the new team commanders,” David said quietly. “If I’m really lucky, I might get to see it someday.”

  They’d lost enough ONSET team commanders in the Incident that every ONSET agent who’d been marked as a candidate for Commander had been bumped and given teams. David had been told he’d spend six months as a candidate, acting as second-in-command of a strike team, and then go to a training program, and only then get a team.

  Instead, he hadn’t even been in ONSET for six months before he found himself in command of a team. He’d been a police department shift commander before joining Omicron, so he wasn’t as in over as his head as he could have been.

  He couldn’t help worrying about some of the others.

  “I’ve seen your file, Commander,” Narita observed. “I suspect the only way you’re seeing the ONSET Command Training Program at this point is as an instructor.

  “What’s the plan for this whole mess?”

  “We’re waiting on a warrant for search and lockdown of the offices of our prime suspect in the Conclave attack,” David told him. “We should have floor plans being sent over shortly. Once we have proper authorizations, we’ll move in. Your people will be our perimeter—you’ll lock down the entire office tower and evacuate the other floors one by one while my team moves on the offices themselves.

  “We’ll need one of your squads to secure the server floor to make sure no one decides to do anything stupid.”

  “I’ll need to see those floor plans,” Narita noted, “but that sounds like a good starting point.”
r />   “OSPI has helpfully let us take over their tactical operations center,” David told him. “Shall we?”

  #

  The hours of the day ticked by in a gray fog of mist and rain while David waited impatiently for a response from Justice Nabahe. By noon, his team and Narita’s company were ready to go…and waiting.

  And waiting.

  The ops center was quiet, a collection of agents and AP officers watching the fog roll through Seattle’s streets as time passed. Midafternoon, one of the local OSPI inspectors swung by with a tray of coffee, a gift that David and his people gratefully accepted.

  The clouds were darkening above them when David finally received an email to his phone telling him to meet Nabahe in the conference room she’d taken over. Unfamiliar with Seattle weather, he studied the sky through the windows as he walked through the office building’s corridors, trying to determine if it was a late autumn nightfall coming in or a storm.

  Given that they believed Talon Security to be under vampire control, neither was a good sign for carrying out the operation today.

  “Have a seat, White,” Nabahe ordered as he stepped into the conference room. She was still studying the reports on her laptop as he obeyed, then she looked up and closed the computer.

  “You realize,” she said quietly, “that this is pretty damned flimsy for probable cause. A pile of supposition and guesswork, on which you want me to authorize you to break down doors and lockdown an entire office building.”

  “Any single piece of it is weak, I agree,” David replied. “Combined, I found Charles’s logic compelling. There certainly aren’t any other candidates in Seattle, so unless we presume someone went out of their way to attack the Elfin, Talon seems our best bet.”

  “I’m not in the habit, Commander, of signing blank checks for ONSET,” Nabahe said sharply. “The situation is a mess. Rushing to conclusions isn’t going to help anyone—you’re talking about raiding the offices of an armed security company. Your odds of pulling that off without shooting are pretty damned low, wouldn’t you say?”