“My god,” the old werewolf whispered.
“It wasn’t about stopping the alliance with Omicron. It was about removing internal opposition in the Conclave—and forcing us to give them a better deal.”
Leaving O’Brien to chew on that, David pulled out his phone and stepped away from the buildings. It was after midnight, so he hoped the man on the other end was still awake—or at least had his phone loud enough to wake him.
It rang long enough he was starting to worry, but on about the seventh ring, Jamie Riley finally answered.
“I’ll point out that it is just past three AM here and I have an eight AM flight,” the Elfin Lord said calmly.
“This is important,” David replied. “It’s Commander White.”
“I know it’s you, White, and I assumed it was important, or I wouldn’t have answered the phone,” Riley told him. “What is it?”
“If the Committee actually put a seat at the table into the deal, who would the Conclave send?”
“Manderley,” Riley said instantly, then paused. “Shit.”
“But he died in Seattle,” David said softly. Ryan Manderley had been First Lord of the Elfin, the senior member of the Conclave. “Would the new First Lord be the default then?”
Silence.
“No,” Riley said finally. “Akimoto may be the most senior Lord now, but he lacks the…influence and allies Ryan had. It would be a political football, but…”
“It would be Langley, wouldn’t it?”
Riley was silent again for a long moment. David could hear him rubbing his eyes, as if trying to make sure he was awake.
“What are you suggesting, Commander White?” the Elfin Lord asked, his voice low and flat.
“Manderley was First Lord. You just told me the only other Lord more senior than Langley is a political nonentity. Kenner was Langley’s recurring opponent in Conclave debates and Elfin politics.
“I haven’t had a chance to go over the files for Lady Rainier or Morehouse, but you tell me if they were Langley’s friends.”
Another long, long silence.
“No.” The word hung in the darkness like a tombstone. “Rainier and Langley bumped heads along their mutual border of responsibility on a regular basis. Morehouse was an ex-apprentice; he and Langley had a massive fight and he completed his training under Akimoto.”
Riley sighed.
“Morehouse was also Akimoto’s lover, which is a good chunk of why Akimoto wouldn’t take a Committee seat if we were offered it.
“Langley is my friend,” he warned. “My mentor. One of my comrades. Step carefully, Commander White. These are dangerous grounds you wander.”
David sighed.
“Lord Riley,” he said formally, “I have sworn testimony from members of the militia that fuelled and armed the helicopters that launched the attack on the Conclave that they were provided detailed targeting instructions, sufficient to hit specific seats and sections of the conference hall, by Sharif Paulson the night before the attack was launched.”
He let that hang for a moment.
“I will be taking that testimony to an Omicron Justice before the night is out and getting a warrant for Paulson’s arrest and interrogation. He may have acted alone. He may not have. If you want answers, Lord Riley, I need to know where Second Sharif Paulson is.”
“I don’t know where he is,” Riley said in a rushed exhalation. “I could find out, but it’s not worth it.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s not worth it because I know where he will be. I’m in charge of security for this Conclave, which means I have everyone’s flight information. Sharif Paulson will be arriving at Portland International Airport at eight fifty-five AM tomorrow morning.
“Now I’m going to get my Second to reschedule our flights and get what sleep I still can. Meet me at the airport at eight AM with your damned warrant, Commander White. We’ll get our answers.”
The line went silent and David looked at O’Brien.
“Langley knows us,” the werewolf said quietly. “Knows everything about us. He sold us out for…”
“Power,” David said flatly. “Everything he did was to force the Committee to give the Elfin a seat at the table of ultimate power in the United States, and to force the Elfin to give that seat to him.
“Someone to keep an eye on things here,” he continued. “You or me?”
“Me,” O’Brien said with a sigh. “For all the reasons they sent you to Seattle in the first place. There are Elfin who hate my guts, and it’s still your file. Take Ix,” he instructed. “Even we forget he’s a Class One supernatural.”
Nodding to the older man, David headed to wake his people up. If they needed it, they could sleep on the helicopter.
#
To David’s surprise, Justice Nabahe answered her phone instantly.
“Your Honor, I was expecting to leave a message,” he admitted.
“White, you know what kind of cases I judge,” she said acidly. “Are you shocked that I have trouble sleeping? Besides, I was expecting you to call at some point tonight. What do you need?”
“I’m forwarding you”—he glanced over at Hellet working on her tablet as the Pendragon lifted off from the mountain compound, who nodded to let him know the email had been sent—“a recording and transcript of the interrogation of one Casey Reynolds, the gate guard commander at the Night Stallions compound.
“We’re also including copies of a number of emails between members of the Romanov Familias and the full file on Second Sharif Paulson.
“Reynolds identified Paulson as the man who provided detailed targeting instructions to the Talon Security attack helicopter pilots. Detailed-enough instructions to allow for targeting of specific Lords at the Conclave.”
The phone was silent for a moment.
“That is an ugly can of worms, Commander.”
“He’s in it up to his neck, Justice Nabahe,” David replied quietly. “I need a warrant for his arrest and interrogation. Even if he was just following orders…”
“He’s still a domestic supernatural terrorist,” the judge said grimly. “If you’re right.”
“Only way to find out is to bring him and ask him. The sooner we have the warrant, the faster we can trace back his movements.”
She sighed.
“I believe you, White,” she told him. “I still need to review the documents. Give me a couple of hours.”
“We’re in the air,” he replied. The Pendragon was disturbingly good at muffling the sound inside its cabin, though the Justice had still probably known that. “Touching down in Portland in just over an hour and a half.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
Chapter 37
In the end, David caught a little over three hours of sleep in total: one on the helicopter and two in a cot in a barracks in the military section of Portland International Airport. He was woken up in the barracks when his phone began to ring insistently.
“This is White, and if you aren’t calling to tell me I won a million dollars, I might have to kill you,” he said without checking the caller ID.
“Ye can try,” Charles brogued back at him cheerfully, “but Ai suspect Ai’d be a handful, even fer ye. Plus, ye want to hear what we’ve found.”
Mostly awake now, David checked the time. His alarm would have gone off in twenty minutes anyway—it was almost time for his team to head over to meet Riley.
“What did you find?” he asked the dragon. “Pictures of Langley with a smoking gun would be handy.”
The dragon chuckled.
“Not quite,” he admitted. “But once we got the warrant from Nabahe, we went over Paulson’s movements while he was in Seattle for the Conclave. He was being clever, but we’ve got him.”
“We’ve got him?” David asked.
“We tapped the hotel records,” the dragon told him. “He hired a taxi, paid for through a shell corp that Langley owns, to take him to the outer suburbs. Taxi’s GPS chi
p told us where he got off, and we had satellite surveillance in the area at the time.
“He stole a car and left the zone of the satellite,” Charles continued. “Back-checking the address the car was located at, we found a stolen vehicle report.
“It turns out that he chose…poorly. The vehicle had one of those GPS driving-monitoring setups for insurance. The police report on the stolen vehicle only had the final location, as it hadn’t gone particularly far, but…”
“Did you get the full trip from the insurance?”
“Now, Commander White, there are official channels that such a request has to go through,” the dragon told him repressively. “We have a warrant and the request has been filed, but no one at the insurance company will be in the office for several hours at least. We need to give them at least a day.”
“And unofficially?” David asked.
“Unofficially, their security sucks,” Charles replied. “He took the stolen car straight to the Night Stallions compound, was there for just over two hours, then drove back and ditched the car in the same Seattle suburb he stole it in.”
“You can definitely place him at the compound?”
“One hundred percent,” the dragon agreed. “The vehicle didn’t stop between him stealing it and it arriving there. It might have been driven back to Seattle by someone else, but he drove it there. We won’t have that officially for a few more days, though,” he warned.
“Doesn’t matter,” David told him. “We have the warrant; we’ll get it legitimately. All I need today is enough to make Paulson talk.”
“That part’s up to ye,” the dragon said. “Good luck.”
#
Lord Jamie Riley arrived on a private jet, the plane touching down an hour before Paulson was due to arrive. From the degree of running around and confusion in that portion of the airport, the plane had been scheduled at the last minute—which wouldn’t surprise David in the least.
He and his team, plus Ix, were in their full “Men in Black” gear, conservative black suits worn over enchanted concealed armor and sidearms. Even Stone had left behind his heavy machine gun. David’s own blazer was cut neatly to conceal Memoria’s hilt, the blade itself hidden away in its pocket dimension.
The Elfin Lord had no such subtlety to hand and stalked off the plane with a briefcase in one hand and the kind of long, expensive black portfolio tube with straps favored by high-end architects.
If David hadn’t guessed what was in the tube, the fact that his Second, Brianna Young, was carrying an identical black tube would have been a clue. The tubes might normally be used for paintings or schematics, but that wasn’t what the two Elfin were carrying in them today.
“Commander White,” Lord Riley said, the tall man bowing slightly as he reached them. “Êl síla erin lû e-govaned vîn. I may wish you had found different secrets, but the world is as it is, not as we will it.”
David presumed the Elvish was some kind of greeting and returned the nod.
“I would rather not have lost friends to get this far,” he replied. “Paulson has much to answer for—as does Langley, if he was involved.”
Young shook her head.
“We all know he was involved,” the Second said flatly. “My lord gives credit for old friendships, but we must face the reality of our situation. Langley is the greater threat here. Paulson is no match for myself or my lord, let along the strength you have assembled.”
“Boe?” Riley said sadly.
“Yes, it is necessary, hîr vuin,” she replied. “And you know it.”
“My Second is correct,” he agreed. “We must find out what Paulson knows.”
“Mage or not, we have four aura readers here,” David reminded them. “If we can take him alive, we will learn the truth of his involvement. Or he can face the consequences entirely on his own.”
“Deliver Paulson to the Conclave as their destroyer, and you will have your alliance,” Riley admitted.
“I would rather both my alliance and the truth.”
Riley sighed and nodded, tapping the portfolio tube.
“He’s coming in first class on a regular commuter flight,” he told them. “Is there any way we can do this less publicly?”
“The TSA are proving cooperative, for once,” David told him. “We can get him out of the public eye, I think.”
#
David White had no better an opinion of the United States Transportation Security Administration than most Americans, but he couldn’t complain about the local agents’ response to his polite requests, at least when accompanied by armed agents and a very clear warrant.
He and his team were waiting in a side room, a tablet propped up on the table to show the exit from the airplane in case things went wrong. If necessary, he and his team could be at the boarding tube in under ten seconds, but that would get very public very fast—and if Paulson, a Fourth Circle Master Mage, a Class One Supernatural by Omicron’s definitions, decided to go all out…
In David’s experience, the “masquerade” was maintained more by humanity’s astonishing ability to justify away the evidence of their own eyes than anything else, but an outright wizard duel in an international airport in front of dozens of people might stretch even that elastic resistance to the paranormal to the breaking point.
Watching through the security cameras, he saw Sharif Paulson exit the plane, carrying a backpack, the third person off. Since even the TSA wouldn’t miss swords or other obvious weapons, he presumably had checked any armaments at the other end.
Three uniformed TSA agents intercepted the big Second before he’d made it ten feet, engaging him in polite but vigorous conversation. A black man accosted by law enforcement of any kind, he did not look happy but eventually allowed himself to be guided out of the main hall into the secured sections of the airport.
“They got him. Let’s move,” David said quietly.
The doors to the public areas slammed shut behind the TSA agents as David and his ONSET Agents stepped out into the hallway, moving to block Paulson’s points of escape.
“Sharif Paulson,” David addressed the Second. “You are under arrest on multiple counts of terrorism. Agent Calais, you and your companions may leave us now. We have the situation under control.”
Something about the four suited ONSET Agents and the two Elfin accompanying them was enough to prevent any questions. All three TSA agents faded through the door behind them in an instant, and the door whipped shut and sealed itself at a gesture from Lord Riley.
“I don’t think I need to clarify that those are charges of supernatural terrorism.” David noted to Paulson, who was standing impassively. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you can say can be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. Given the circumstances of the charges, one will be provided for you by the court.
“Do you understand these rights?”
“I understand that you have nothing,” Paulson said calmly. “I have done nothing and I’m not sure what’s going on here.”
“Second Paulson, I have eyewitness and technical testimony confirming that you were the individual who provided the seating plans for the Conclave to the Talon Security mercenaries who carried out the aerial assault at the behest of the Romanov Vampire Family,” David said flatly. “I have a warrant for your arrest on these charges and authorization to bring you before the Conclave.”
He gestured for Hellet to move forward and cuff the man.
“I believe I need to speak to my lawyer before any such thing occurs,” Paulson said calmly.
“I never said you had to say anything to the Conclave,” David pointed out. “You will have an opportunity to meet with an Omicron Defender. Suffice to say, the case is basically open and shut. Given the speed of the Supernatural Courts, we might even get you to the needle by Christmas.”
The shield of impassivity on the big man’s face cracked.
“The needle,” he repeated.
“You are directly
involved and responsible for the murder of four Elfin Lords,” Riley told him flatly before David could respond. “Not to mention nine of ONSET’s soldiers.”
“And that is assuming that you aren’t the ‘Saruman’ contact the Romanovs had, who provided the Vampire Familias with information leading to the assault on the Talon Security building, the deaths of dozens more Anti-Paranormal troopers and ONSET Agent James Pell,” David told him. “I suspect that, without reason to believe otherwise, an Omicron Court will lay responsibility for that on you as well.
“Your attempt to stop the alliance between Omicron and the Conclave has failed, I think, and you will pay the full price for your crimes.”
The cuffs were about to go on, and then Paulson moved. Magic flared in the austere hallway, a wave of force that flung Hellet and the handcuffs backward as the big man moved. Power flared through his body as well, accelerating him and allowing him to spring forward with superhuman speed.
David had been waiting for him. Internalized magic or not, he was faster than Paulson and intercepted the ex-footballer in midair, his shoulder slamming hard into Paulson’s diaphragm and smashing the other man into the wall.
The flimsy drywall smashed to powder as the two heavyset men crashed into it. The metal framework behind the drywall held for a moment—long enough for Riley to act.
Tendrils of power wrapped around Paulson, yanking him out from the debris and suspending him in the air. They only held for a moment before the Second shattered them, but that was enough for David to be moving again.
Paulson hit the ground, his knees bending to absorb the impact—and then David swept his feet out from under him. He crashed forward, David’s knee slamming into his back as the ONSET Commander yanked his arms backward and snapped the silver handcuffs into place.
“You have two choices, Paulson,” he told the man under him. “You can take the fall—because we both know Langley won’t stick his own neck out to save you in Conclave—or you can turn state’s evidence and tell us everything.”
ONSET: My Enemy's Enemy Page 26
