Deadly Weakness (Gray Spear Society)

by Siegel, Alex

  "The enemy will be there at that time," Hanley said. "All of them in one place."

  Rosecrans picked up the photo and studied it.

  "My contact also strongly recommends we lead with an airstrike."

  The colonel stared at him.

  "I'm not kidding," Hanley said.

  "I'm sure your contact means well, but we can't do an airstrike. It's not feasible."

  "We bomb terrorists in foreign countries. Why can't we bomb terrorists here?"

  Rosecrans took a deep breath. "In theory, and I want to emphasize the word theory, it's the right approach. That area has very few civilians, so there is almost no risk of unintended casualties. The target is a plain wooden structure. A single, five hundred pound bomb would demolish it and kill everybody inside. There are no air defenses to worry about. The plane doesn't even have to be stealthy. An air strike would dramatically reduce the danger to our men while incurring relatively little risk. In theory."

  "I'm glad you agree," Hanley said.

  "But there are serious practical concerns. We're talking about Wisconsin, not Afghanistan. An airstrike against a domestic target would need approval from the highest levels, maybe even the White House. You won't get that in—" Rosecrans checked his watch. "—eight hours."

  The colonel was right. At least Hanley could tell Xavier he had tried.

  "But I have an alternative."

  Hanley perked up.

  "A well executed mortar attack is almost as effective as an airstrike," Rosecrans said. "You can find mortars in any military depot. Many of my men have the necessary training. A battery of mortars will reduce the target to kindling in less than a minute. Most importantly, they don't require special approval. They're considered an ordinary infantry weapon."

  "That's a brilliant idea." Hanley smiled. "We'll need a spotter though."

  "We'll put a man in a helicopter."

  "OK." Hanley nodded. "That's the first part of the plan. Now let's talk about the second part. Our men will have to enter the camp to arrest any survivors. I think we should just drive right in using the road. We'll show up after the barrage ends and hit the enemy hard."

  Rosecrans was silent for a moment. Hanley studied the photos on the table.

  There was only one road leading to Camp Zonta. It curved past a farm, wriggled through a patch of thick forest, and terminated at the central building. To reach the camp any other way would require hiking through woods laden with booby traps. The road passed over a small hill, which provided natural cover.

  To Hanley, the most obvious strategy was hiding his men behind the hill during the mortar barrage. Then he would send them forward all at once. The distance between the hill and the central building was about 400 meters. It would take less than a minute by car.

  "It's a good idea," Rosecrans said, "but the enemy could have the road barricaded. We'll need an armored vehicle to bust through."

  "A tank?"

  "A real tank may not be necessary, but something big and tough."

  "Very well," Hanley said. "It sounds like we have several tasks to accomplish. The entire Unit has to go to Camp Zonta and get into attack formation. We need mortars, and we need an armored assault vehicle. All in less than eight hours. Can we do it?"

  Rosecrans nodded. "Easily."

  "Let's go." Hanley stood up.

  * * *

  Marina looked over at Sampson and Torngasoak. Both men were walking around and apparently healed, but neither appeared happy. Even Sampson, who had won the fight, stared at the floor with a thoughtful expression. If Smythe and Odelia hadn't intervened with their miraculous powers, both combatants would've died.

  Ethel walked into the hall where the tournament was taking place. Everybody else rushed to get into their original position, except for Torngasoak. He stayed in the back with the staff.

  "Jennifer, of Oklahoma City," Ethel called. "Eduardo, of Denver."

  A woman and a man walked into the square. Jennifer had the same light build as Marina, but her hair was a rich brown instead of Marina's red. When Jennifer opened her mouth, she revealed a tongue that was completely black. The veins in her tanned skin were also strangely dark.

  Eduardo was a big Hispanic man. He was shaved bald, and his light brown skin shined under the lights. He cracked his knuckles in a menacing manner.

  "Jennifer," Ethel said, "remember the rules. No suffocation."

  "Yes, ma'am," Jennifer said.

  The fighters took their positions.

  "Begin," Ethel said.

  They adopted defensive stances and slowly closed. They carefully watched each other's movements.

  Suddenly, Jennifer's stomach clenched. Black liquid shot from her mouth in a continuous stream towards Eduardo's head. It looked like she was violently regurgitating. He ducked out of the way, and the goop struck his arm instead. It became a thick coating that gleamed like hot tar. He tried to rub it off and almost got his other hand stuck on the gluey material.

  He looked at her again with a surprised expression. Her stomach muscles were flexing visibly. Marina guessed she was preparing for another shot.

  Eduardo charged forward. Jennifer nimbly dodged aside and vomited onto his face. His eyes were completely covered in black goo.

  He groped around blindly. She tried to kick his knee, but he seemed to sense her coming and shifted out of the way. She followed up with a spinning kick to his chest. The hard impact made him wheeze. He reached for her leg, but she jumped back before he could get a grip.

  Go for the knee again, Marina thought.

  Eduardo stopped moving and held his arms out. Clearly, he was listening very hard for his opponent. Jennifer circled him silently.

  She spewed more black liquid onto his feet. He tried to step back, but his feet were stuck to the floor. She launched herself into a flying kick aimed at his back. Somehow, he heard her approach and lashed out with his elbow. Their bodies tangled together. He landed several brutal blows before she managed to scramble away.

  She got to her feet unsteadily. Her elbow had a bloody compound fracture.

  For a moment she stood and contemplated her options. Eduardo's feet were still glued to the floor and he was still blind.

  Jennifer dove between his legs and struck him in the groin with her heel. He made a squeaking noise. She kicked out with her feet and broke both his knees at once. He started to fall towards her, and she rolled out of the way.

  He landed on his face. His knees were bent at right angles the wrong way. It was an ugly sight.

  "Oklahoma City wins!" Ethel declared.

  Smythe and Odelia rushed forward.

  It turned out whole milk was the best way to dissolve Jennifer's adhesive tar. Poor Eduardo had to wait in agony while somebody fetched milk from the kitchen. Meanwhile, the medical team attended to Jennifer's injuries.

  Finally, the mess was mopped up and the combatants were healed. Eduardo went to the back of the room to join the other losers. Jennifer returned to her place in line with the remaining combatants.

  "John, of Atlanta," Ethel called. "Rodrigo, of Guadalajara."

  Two men entered the square. Marina had met John during dinner last night, and she recognized his strikingly handsome face. His build was lighter than most of the other men in the tournament, but he was still very strong. He had a thin mustache and beard, which were carefully groomed.

  Rodrigo also had a face that could turn a girl's head, but his physique was far too bulky for Marina's taste. His arms were ridiculously large. Coffee colored skin and black hair gave him an exotic air.

  As far as Marina knew, neither man had a gift. This would be a straight fight between normal humans, a novelty in this tournament. She was looking forward to watching.

  "Begin," Ethel said.

  The men squared up like boxers with their fists held forward. They circled each other, moving sideways.

  "No heavy blows to the head," Ethel said. "The brain can't be healed."

  Rodrigo rushed in first. He attempt
ed a series of body punches, which John expertly deflected with his forearms. John countered by trying to stomp on Rodrigo's knees and feet. The two men danced momentarily as they fought with their legs.

  While Rodrigo was distracted, John landed a hard straight punch in his chest but it didn't seem to do much harm. John then kicked his opponent in the lower ribs. Rodrigo reacted with a pained expression. He reached out his hands to grab, but John hopped away too quickly.

  That's the problem with such huge muscles, Marina thought. At some point they just slow you down.

  Rodrigo rushed forward again with a determined expression. John fell back and tripped Rodrigo. The bigger man landed flat on his face.

  John dropped both his knees onto Rodrigo's already injured rib. Rodrigo's eyes bulged and he grunted. He shoved John away violently and got back up.

  John went after Rodrigo's legs again, demonstrating amazing agility. He had a counter move for every one of Rodrigo's attacks. Even though John wasn't doing great damage, it seemed he would eventually wear down his opponent and win. Rodrigo clenched his jaw in frustration.

  Suddenly, he punched John in the face.

  Ethel came flying across the room. When she really wanted to move, her quickness was always startling. There was probably nobody on the planet faster than her.

  She struck Rodrigo in the chest with both feet like a diver hitting a springboard. He weighed twice as much as her, and she still knocked him back. She landed with the grace of a cat. He fell to the ground and wheezed like an old man.

  "Guadalajara is disqualified," she said. "Atlanta wins."

  Smythe and Odelia approached Rodrigo.

  Ethel shook her head. "Leave him be. If he's injured, he'll have to heal on his own. He doesn't deserve your kindness. Attend to John instead."

  "Yes, ma'am," Smythe said.

  * * *

  The caravan had stopped at the Lake Forest Tollway Oasis. The FBI Special Missions Unit was about two hundred people in total, and it took fifty vehicles to move all those bodies and their equipment. The caravan had filled every available spot in the parking lot.

  The oasis was actually a small indoor mall built directly over the interstate highway. Ramps provided access on both sides. Illinois owned this oasis along with several others scattered around the state. The food inside was fast and cheap, perfect for a traveler who didn't want to waste time finding a real restaurant.

  Hanley stood beside his car in the cold winter air. The schedule was tight, and he was impatient to get moving again. However, the next stop for most of his men was Camp Zonta. This was their last chance to eat a quick meal and use a restroom before the battle tonight. He had no choice but to give them a reasonable amount of time.

  Many of his men were walking through the parking lot. About half wore combat fatigues and the rest wore FBI suits. Everybody would change into their fighting gear once they were near the camp. There was no point in being uncomfortable during the long drive.

  Hanley sighed and looked at Colonel Rosecrans.

  "Logistics," the colonel said. "It's the bane of armies everywhere."

  He wore a green coat with a fur brim. The coat had odd stains and a few tears in the fabric. If it could talk, it would probably have war stories to tell.

  He received a phone call. Hanley was polite and didn't eavesdrop. Rosecrans wrote some lines on a small notepad before ending the call.

  "Good news," Rosecrans said. "That was my man back in Washington. He told me where we can find plenty of mortars and an armored vehicle or two."

  "Where?"

  "The Wisconsin Army National Guard has a depot that is on the way to the target."

  "The Guard won't just give us equipment because we ask," Hanley said.

  "That's why it's good to have connections who have connections," Rosecrans said. "My man will call ahead. When we get to the depot, they should be cooperative."

  Hanley checked his watch. It was already 1440 hours. "They'd better be. We can't afford to fight red tape. The schedule is starting to tighten up."

  "We'll give the men ten more minutes to eat."

  "But that's all."

  * * *

  Aaron watched the crowd slowly gather. The tournament would resume in five minutes.

  Ethel sat in her chair at the front of the hall. Her expression didn't hint at what she was feeling, but he imagined her mood wasn't positive. Guthrum stood a pace behind her.

  Aaron walked over. He nodded politely to the bodyguard before addressing Ethel.

  "This is certainly a unique tournament," he said. "Bethany and Leanna are recording the whole thing through the surveillance system. If you want, ma'am, we can distribute copies of the video after the convention. I'm sure everybody in the Society will want to see it."

  She furrowed her brow. "I'll think about it."

  He nodded.

  "I'm uneasy about tonight," she said in a very soft voice. "Are you still convinced the attack will take place during the banquet?"

  He leaned towards her and whispered, "I've done everything I can to give the enemy a specific time and place, ma'am. Our apparent vulnerability will be at its peak."

  "Then in four and a half hours the traitor will be revealed."

  "I hope so."

  She sighed deeply.

  "There is a lot of speculation about the trophy you're giving out tonight," he said. "Would you mind giving me a hint?"

  She winked at him. "Be patient."

  "Yes, ma'am."

  Smythe and Odelia came over. They were holding hands and Aaron felt bad for them. It was obvious they loved each other, but their brief relationship would have to end on Monday morning.

  "Ma'am," Smythe said, "sir, can we have a moment of your time?"

  "Of course," Ethel said.

  "We're very concerned about this tournament. We think somebody could die."

  "I'm not sure why you're worried. Both of you have done a magnificent job so far. When you work closely together, the divine Spirit fills the room. I enjoy watching you heal the fighters as much as I enjoy watching the fights."

  Smythe smiled a little. "Thank you, ma'am. It's been a special experience for us, too."

  He pulled Odelia close, and she smiled with contentment.

  Aaron looked down. This situation was going to end in tears, and he didn't see any alternative.

  "But ma'am," Smythe said, "we've had some close calls already. If both fighters are very badly injured, one could die while we're working on the other."

  "The tournament is proceeding according to your rules," Ethel said.

  "Yes, ma'am. Maybe we need more rules."

  "I don't think so. These fighters know what lines can't be crossed. They won't kill each other. I appreciate your concern though. I wouldn't expect any different. Now move back to your positions. We're ready to begin." She shooed the healers away with her hands.

  Aaron went back to his place with the other commanders. He looked across the square at Marina. She was putting on a brave face but she couldn't fool him. She was very anxious.

  Ethel stood up and announced, "We will now begin the second round. Everybody has seen everybody else fight, so there will be no more surprises. For the first fight of this round, I'll have Sampson, of Houston. His opponent will be Hammer, of Manhattan."

  Aaron grimaced. Hammer was one of the favorites to win the entire tournament. Sampson was a fine fighter, but he was thoroughly outclassed this time.

  Hammer came forward. He wasn't tall but his body was thick with muscle. Every part of him, from his fingers to his toes, was solid and powerful. With his square jaw and big skull, even his head looked hardened. His hands were his gift though. They looked like they were sheathed in steel, but that was actually his skin. He could use his hands like sledgehammers to shatter bones with a single blow. He could also stop a bullet with them.

  Sampson didn't seem concerned as he sprinted to his position. His long blond hair flowed around his head. Aaron had met the man a few times now, and
his joyous enthusiasm was infectious. Aaron wished he had a guy like that on his own team. It would help everybody else get through the daily grind of hard training.

  "Begin," Ethel said.

  Sampson moved quickly around the combat square. He was clearly searching for a way to land a blow without getting hit by Hammer's fearsome hands. One good punch might be enough to end the fight.

  Hammer remained in a balanced stance with his hands forward. He turned in place to keep his opponent in front of him. Aaron could already tell he was a master martial artist. Sampson made several feints, but Hammer didn't take the bait.

  Aaron couldn't help but wonder what he would do if he were to fight Hammer. The obvious tactic would be to goad Hammer into an unwise attack and get him off balance. He would anticipate that tactic though. It was an interesting puzzle.

  Sampson stopped moving. He just stood in a basic stance and waited with a slight smile on his face. Hammer raised his eyebrows.

  Not a bad idea, Aaron thought. There isn't a time limit. Let Hammer make the first move.

  For five minutes the two men just stared at each other. The audience grew restless. Aaron looked over at Ethel and saw her frowning. To her, the world moved at a very different speed, so the five minutes probably seemed like two hours.

  Hammer was the first to break the stalemate. He charged forward with a series of powerful, well executed punches and kicks that forced Sampson to back away. Sampson finally responded with a throwing technique that looked like an Aikido move. Against most opponents it would've worked, but Hammer had such strong legs and such perfect balance that he hardly budged.

  The two men grappled for a moment. Sampson had the advantage in upper body strength, but Hammer was more skilled. Hammer broke free of Sampson's grip and lashed out with a punch. Sampson was struck in the ribs hard enough to make an audible crunch. He tried to respond by kicking Hammer in the gut. Hammer dropped a fist onto Sampson's leg with such force it snapped his femur.

  Sampson fell to the floor.

  "Manhattan wins!" Ethel said.

  Smythe and Odelia rushed to Sampson's aid. They didn't even bother asking Hammer whether he was hurt.

  Sampson had suffered internal injuries that required all of the healers' attention. Smythe had his arms completely inside Sampson's huge chest. Odelia was glowing like a giant light bulb. Sampson's commander, Xavier, came over and looked down with an expression of concern.