by Siegel, Alex
Marina was very nervous. There were some big, scary guys in line with her, and some of them also had gifts. This was going to be a rough day.
Ethel stood and moved to the middle of the square. "The tournament will proceed as follows," she said loudly. "It is single elimination. If you lose, you're done. I will pick the matches according to what I want to see. You may feel my choices are unfair. Too bad. I'll also judge the winner of each fight. Each match will proceed at full speed without a break until I declare a victor. At that point it will instantly stop. Am I clear?"
"Yes, ma'am," all the fighters responded.
Ethel looked intently at them with her unnaturally dark eyes. "Violation of the rules will result in immediate disqualification. If I feel the offense was intentional, I will mete out punishment as I see fit. I expect to see discipline, restraint, and honor today. We aren't enemies."
But what are the rules? Marina wondered. What is the big surprise?
"Smythe and Odelia will explain the rest," Ethel said. "Most of you don't know these two legionnaires. They both have an extraordinarily powerful gift of healing. Your health is in the best possible hands today."
Smythe came forward with a woman Marina had never seen before. Odelia's hair was so white and silky it looked artificial. The strange color of her eyes reminded Marina of dried blood.
"The legate wants to see realistic fights today," Smythe said. "Full speed, full contact, full technique. Don't hold anything back. You're under orders to beat the shit out of each other."
Marina's eyes widened. Is he serious? she wondered. He can't be.
"Odelia and I will patch you up after each fight," he said. "Everybody will be OK for dinner. Trust me. But there are certain kinds of injuries we can't heal. In particular, the brain is off limits. No head trauma. No attacks to the neck or spine. No dismemberment. No suffocation. Venom is permitted, provided the doses are non-lethal." He glanced at Marina. "All other injuries are allowed."
Marina was horrified. Was Ethel hoping for a bloodbath?
"Thank you Dr. Smythe and Odelia," Ethel said. "That seems clear enough. Focus your attacks on the limbs and the abdomen. I'll be watching closely. Remember, the winner of the tournament will get a very nice prize at tonight's banquet. Attendance is mandatory for everybody. There will be no sore losers hiding in their rooms. Marina, as the hostess of this convention, I'll grant you the honor of the first fight. Your opponent will be Aldonza from Mexico City."
Marina walked nervously onto the square. The eyes of the entire North American division were on her.
Her opponent was a tall woman with dark skin. She had very long hair the color of fresh mint. They faced each other at a distance of several paces.
Aldonza's strange hair began to fan out around her head. It moved under its own power.
What the hell? Marina thought. She rubbed her fingers to force extra venom into her black fingernails. She now wished she had taken the time to sharpen them. If she got through this fight, she would do so before the next one.
"Begin," Ethel said.
The two women approached each other cautiously. Marina was trying to determine Aldonza's combat style from her stance and posture. Meanwhile, Aldonza's hair rippled like waves in water. It was very distracting.
Suddenly, the fight was on. Aldonza attacked with a perfectly executed combination of spinning kicks and punches. Marina tried to sneak underneath the flurry and caught a vicious kick to her shoulder for her trouble. Intense pain made her grunt. It was possible her collar bone was broken. On her second effort, Marina managed to trip up Aldonza and send her falling forward. Marina used her full body weight to land an elbow on Aldonza's kidney.
Something grabbed Marina's forearm. She realized it was Aldonza's hair. Green fibers tightened like thousands of steel wires, and the bones in Marina's arm abruptly snapped.
"Ahh!" she cried out in pain.
Enough, she thought. Ethel wants blood. That's what she'll get.
Marina sunk the razor sharp fingernails on her good hand into Aldonza's back. Marina twisted to carve up as much flesh as possible. Blood flowed freely from the deep wound. Now it was Aldonza's turn to scream. Marina gave her a dose of venom for good measure.
Aldonza rolled over until she was on top of Marina. The venom would take effect in only seconds, but Aldonza wasn't done yet. Her hair grabbed Marina's shoulders. Marina felt terrible pain as her arms were twisted out of their sockets. She couldn't stop the supernatural strength of that green hair.
Finally, Aldonza fell unconscious and her hair went limp.
"Chicago wins," Ethel announced. "A slow start but a strong finish."
Smythe and Odelia rushed forward.
Smythe attended to Marina. "Hold still," he said.
He reached into her shoulder. She had seen him do that trick to other people but never to herself. She could actually feel his hand moving under her skin. The experience was frightening but not painful. He seemed to be pushing the broken and dislocated bones back into place.
"How much venom did you give her?" he asked.
"Aldonza?" Marina said. "Not a dangerous amount. She'll sleep for an hour or two."
He nodded.
She looked over at her fallen opponent. Odelia's hands glowed with a bright white light and covered the large wound on Aldonza's back. After a few seconds Odelia lifted her hands. The wound was completely healed.
Wow, Marina thought. Powerful healers indeed.
Smythe stood up. "All done."
She moved her arms around and felt no pain. The bones were knitted. "Thank you."
"You're welcome." He helped her up.
She noticed Aaron smiling at her. She wanted a hug from him, but she just moved to the side of the room instead. Aldonza was taken to her cabin to sleep off the venom.
Even though Marina was physically fine, she was badly shaken. Aaron had warned this tournament would have a memorable format. He hadn't lied.
"Sampson, from Houston," Ethel called out. "Torngasoak, from Edmonton."
Two men moved into the square. The first was a huge man with gorgeous blond hair. He grinned eagerly and almost ran into position. His chest was so big he looked like a parody of himself.
The second fighter was shorter and much less muscular. He had skin the color of cinnamon, and his black hair was cut very short. He seemed a little pudgy to Marina. She guessed he weighed about a hundred and eighty pounds. He was giving up at least a hundred pounds of mass and several inches of reach in this fight.
"Sampson," Ethel said.
The bigger man turned. "Yes, ma'am?"
"Caution is warranted."
Marina raised her eyebrows in surprise. What does that mean?
"Begin," Ethel said.
Torngasoak stuck out his tongue at Sampson in a childish taunting gesture. Torngasoak put his thumbs in his ears and wiggled his fingers. Finally, he turned up his nose with exaggerated disdain.
Sampson cocked his head in obvious confusion. He shrugged and charged forward.
He put his entire body behind a jumping side kick. His technique was fine, and it seemed Torngasoak would get smashed like a bug. Torngasoak grabbed Sampson's leg in mid-air, flipped him, and sent him crashing into the floor. Sampson struck so hard Marina felt the impact with her feet. His entire body crumpled.
Somehow, Sampson managed to push Torngasoak off and stagger to his feet. Sampson stood there, gasping and wobbly. He touched his ribs and winced.
Torngasoak performed a little victory dance. It was irritating to watch.
Caution was indeed warranted, Marina thought.
Sampson edged his way towards his opponent much more carefully than last time. Torngasoak raised his middle finger and waved it dramatically in the air. Sampson seemed unsure of what to do. Finally, he got frustrated and threw a punch.
Torngasoak grabbed Sampson's arm and flipped him completely over. Sampson landed very hard on his back. The sound of the bone crunching impact made Marina wince. Torngasoak t
ried to follow up with a stomping attack, but Sampson rolled out of the way barely in time.
Sampson stood up. His right arm hung loosely, obviously dislocated. He coughed up a little blood and his eyes watered.
Torngasoak went back to his immature taunting.
Sampson stuck his right palm straight out and landed on it. Marina heard the joint pop back into place. He let out a long groan.
He has a strong fighting spirit, she thought.
He narrowed his eyes. He moved slowly towards Torngasoak without making any sudden motions. The smaller man had a concerned expression for the first time. He grabbed his crotch and shook it vigorously.
Marina realized what was happening. Torngasoak utilized his opponent's energy for his own attack. Sampson wasn't going to provide any energy this time.
Torngasoak backed away and his taunting became desperate. Sampson pursued him around the square at the pace of a gentle walk. It was the slowest chase Marina had ever seen. Sampson wheezed and coughed up more blood.
Finally, Torngasoak went on offense. He came in with a low sweeping kick aimed at Sampson's knees. Sampson stomped on Torngasoak's leg so hard it broke, and a jagged piece of fibula tore through the skin. Then Sampson dropped down and punched Torngasoak in the chest, making him fly backwards.
"Houston wins!" Ethel declared.
Sampson collapsed to his knees. His face was a sickly pale.
Smythe and Odelia ran to attend to the fallen. They both focused their attention on Torngasoak first. Sampson would have to wait his turn.
Marina edged around for a closer look at what the doctors were doing. Smythe had both his hands inside of Torngasoak's abdomen. He was muttering about broken ribs and a collapsed lung. Odelia was holding onto Torngasoak's chest, and her arms were glowing like fluorescent light bulbs.
Smythe looked over at Ethel and said, "Ma'am, this could take a little while. This man is badly injured, and Sampson took a severe beating too."
She nodded. "We'll have a twenty minute recess while the healers work their magic. Everybody is dismissed."
Marina quickly walked over to Aaron. He wrapped his big arms around her and gave her a gentle squeeze. It was exactly what she needed.
"I don't like this tournament," she said softly.
"That could be the wisest thing I've ever heard you say," he replied.
* * *
Xavier hurried out of the room. He had a phone call to make and exactly twenty minutes to do it.
He grabbed his coat from a hook in the hall and ran outside. Shocking cold hit him in the face. Without slowing down, he pulled on the coat.
He ran about a hundred yards before finding a secluded spot behind a cabin. He stopped to listen carefully. He didn't hear anything and concluded he was alone.
He took his slim black phone out of his pocket and called Hanley. Xavier didn't have time to mess with the hands-free headset.
"What is my color?" he said quickly.
"Gray."
"What is my weapon?"
"A spear," Hanley said. "Enough! I've waited all morning, Xavier. Your plan better be worth it."
"It's the best I can come up with," Xavier said. "There is a banquet tonight in the large central building. Do you see it on your satellite photos?"
"Yes."
"The entire convention will be there. Nobody will be in their cabin. The perfect time to attack is exactly 7:15. That's when everybody will be seated for dinner."
"OK," Hanley said. "Sounds good."
"I'm not done. Sending in ground forces alone won't work. They'll get annihilated. You have to trust me on that."
"Then what do you suggest?"
"An airstrike," Xavier said.
"A what!"
"A precision bomb, dropped from a plane. Destroy the entire building with no warning at all. Then send in your troops to mop up the survivors, if there are any. I'll be hiding in the woods."
"You must be joking," Hanley said. "You want me to call for an airstrike on Wisconsin?"
"It's the only way."
"It's insane. We're the FBI, not the Air Force."
"Your Unit has a military component," Xavier said. "That's one big reason I hooked up with you. I'm sure one of your buddies can make the arrangements. I'm only asking for a single bomb."
"Xavier..."
"Listen. I've always given you good intelligence. Even when you ignored my advice, I turned out to be right every time. There is only one way to stop the Society: my way."
Hanley sighed. "I can't just whip up an airstrike on short notice. It's not nearly that simple, and last I checked, we're not at war with Wisconsin."
"Do you want your men to die?" Xavier said.
"No."
"Then figure out how to make this happen. Show me you're more than just a paper pushing FBI flunky with a bum knee. I'm expecting to see fireworks at 7:15 sharp."
Hanley hesitated. "I'll try."
"Before I go," Xavier said, "I'll confirm the location of the attack. We can't afford a mistake."
He took out his regular Spears phone and opened the navigation page. He read off his current longitude and latitude to Hanley.
"That's exactly what I have. Camp Zonta."
"Good. I have to go." Xavier put his phone away and hurried back to the tournament.
Chapter Seven
"Norbert, look." Bethany pointed to one of the surveillance feeds on her monitors.
Norbert turned his attention to an image of Xavier. The commander of Houston was making a private phone call behind a cabin. The camera was far away and the angle was poor, but Xavier's impressive mustache was instantly recognizable.
"So?" Norbert said. "I'm sure he has important business back home that requires his attention."
"It's not his regular phone," Bethany said.
He moved closer and saw that she was right. The phone Xavier held was much slimmer than a standard Society phone.
"Maybe he's working on a mission," Norbert said. "That phone could be part of a cover story."
"Aaron told us to monitor all communication. I want to know who he's talking to."
"You can do that?"
"Sure," Leanna said. "We can tap the access logs from the surrounding cell towers. Then we just have to triangulate the position and match it up with..."
He threw up his hands. "Just do it."
Both twins started typing at once. He was always amazed at how they worked perfectly together without needing to tell each other what to do.
Meanwhile, Xavier put away his phone and walked off. The short mysterious call had ended.
After a couple of minutes, Bethany said, "He called Race Hanley."
"And who is that?" Norbert said.
"An FBI agent," Leanna said.
"That's interesting, but there are good reasons why Xavier might talk to the FBI. Aaron has several contacts in the FBI office in Chicago. We rely on them for information. Cultivating contacts is a big part of a commander's job."
"You don't want to tell Aaron?" Bethany said.
Norbert shook his head. "He's busy watching the tournament. I won't annoy him with something as trivial as a simple phone call. If Xavier threatened somebody or broke into a room or had a secret meeting, I'd certainly report it."
Bethany still looked concerned.
He leaned down and kissed both girls on the forehead. "Why don't I go out and buy some lunch for us. Do either of you want anything special? Or should I just get the usual."
"The usual," both twins said at once.
Why do I even ask? Norbert thought. "I'll be back in an hour. If I'm late, call me. If I don't answer, call Aaron. And don't forget we have an emergency rappel system on the roof. Use it if you need to escape in a hurry. Just tighten the straps and jump."
He walked quickly towards the elevator.
* * *
Special Agent Race Hanley, chief of the FBI Special Missions Unit, rubbed his sore knee. The cold dry weather was causing his old war wound to flare up. Every ti
me he felt that particular pain, he was reminded of how his military career had ended in such an ugly and premature way.
He was sitting in his hotel room. The room also served as his field office, but it was a poor one. A small desk didn't have enough space for the paperwork that always followed him around. A sharp edge made it uncomfortable for him to use his laptop. The queen sized bed reminded him of the wife that was so far away. He wished she were here now.
He looked at the framed picture of Peggy on his desk. Her silky red hair was her nicest feature. Her face wasn't especially pretty, but it was always smiling. People told her she had a great personality.
Race and Peggy had been high school sweethearts and had married immediately after graduation. Two weeks later, he had shipped off with the Navy.
They were still married after fifteen years, a fact that sometimes surprised him. During his military service, they had seen each other only during occasional shore leaves. Even though he was a civilian now, they still didn't spend enough time together. The FBI often sent Hanley off on long assignments far from home. They still planned to have children one day, when he finally settled down.
He stood up and walked. The knee was really bothering him, but he forced himself to walk normally. It looked weak when he limped like a cripple.
His bedroom was part of a large suite in the hotel. He entered a central room where another man was seated on a couch.
He was Colonel Rosecrans of the U.S. Army. He was responsible for the military component of the Special Missions Unit. The number of men directly under his command varied depending on need and availability, but he could call upon a hundred Army Rangers and other special forces operators in a pinch. Rosecrans had a thin face and leathery skin. Coarse gray hair made him look ancient, but he was only fifty.
"My contact finally called," Hanley said.
"And?" Rosecrans said.
Hanley took a pen from a coffee table. Satellite photos of Camp Zonta were scattered across the table. He circled the large building in the center of one photo and wrote "1915 hours" in the circle.
