by Siegel, Alex
Xavier shrugged. "Hard to say. The security measures are unobtrusive to say the least. At a minimum I would've expected patrols in the woods, but I don't think there are any. Aaron seems to be relying exclusively on surveillance, but where are the cameras? To be honest, his attitude strikes me as excessively casual. I'm surprised the legate hasn't tightened things up."
"I think the people are the security. Working together, we could repel almost any kind of attack."
"That's true." Xavier nodded. "And it's only for a weekend. I can't complain about a lack of weapons."
They ate in silence for a while. When Sampson went for seconds, Xavier took his chance to depart. He spoke a few polite words to Hector and Yule, and left the dining room.
Xavier walked down a hallway in the large main building. He was looking for clues, but he didn't have a particular destination in mind. He saw offices, classrooms, and meeting rooms on either side. His footsteps were silent on the tile floor. He had never been to a summer camp, but this one was probably a very good one.
He noticed a small library and went inside. Old, worn books were packed into shelves low enough for a child. Frost covered the large windows. There were two tables with enough seating for ten kids.
He grabbed a book at random and opened the cover. A stamp on the inside read "Property of Camp Zonta." The ink looked suspiciously new though. Somebody hadn't done a careful enough job, which gave him an idea.
He started looking behind and underneath the furniture. Eventually, he found a children's picture book tightly wedged behind a shelf. It had obviously slipped back there and had been forgotten. When he opened this book, he discovered "Property of Camp Diniyoli" written inside the cover. He smiled. Bingo.
The library had a dusty old computer on a desk. He turned it on and waited impatiently for the long boot process to complete. Finally, he was able to get to the internet.
He typed "Camp Diniyoli" into the search bar, and no hits came back. He sighed in frustration. Aaron's hackers are good, Xavier thought.
He went back into the hallway and looked around. He spotted an office. The door was locked, but some quick work with his lock picks fixed that.
Inside, there were two desks with old phones on them. He rifled through the drawers until he discovered a phone book. It was three years old but that didn't matter. He flipped through the pages and found the listing for Camp Diniyoli. It included an address.
Feeling excited, he took the address back to the computer. He tried several map sites, but all of them refused to take the address. Still, he had enough information to call Hanley.
Xavier checked the hallway before taking out his secret black phone. Hanley answered after three rings.
"Hanley here."
"What is my color?" Xavier said.
"Gray."
"What is my weapon?"
"A spear," Hanley replied in a tired voice.
"Who am I?"
"The commander of Houston. What's going on? Do you have new information for me?"
"Indeed," Xavier said proudly. "I found out where I am. Camp Diniyoli." He read the address.
"Hmm."
"What?"
"I don't think I can use this information," Hanley said. "I'm already in the process of sending the entire Unit home."
"Why? You can still attack tonight. We're here until Monday."
"Last night was very expensive in a lot of ways. Both of us lost credibility. It's going to take some hard work for me to rebuild my reputation. I can't risk another embarrassing failure right now. And we lost nine good soldiers."
"How?" Xavier said. "Didn't you leave when I told you to?"
"No, we had to check out the bomb damage. We were worried about civilian casualties."
"You idiot! That place was probably littered with traps."
Hanley sighed. "Yes, it was."
"You're damn lucky you only lost nine guys."
"That was about half the guys I went in with. I don't feel so lucky."
"I'm surprised anybody survived," Xavier said.
"And the budget for this operation is spiraling out of control. I just got off the phone with the bean counters in Washington. They wanted explanations in writing, signed by me."
"Where are you now?"
"Milwaukee," Hanley said. "We're in the middle of checking out of our hotel."
"I understand your concerns, and they're very reasonable. But I have a good feeling about tonight. The Society thinks they got us yesterday, which means they won't expect another attack. This could be a huge career win for you."
"Last night was a huge career loss. I put my neck on the line for you, and my neck got chopped off. When you told me about this convention, you warned me it smelled fishy. I should've listened. We have to go back to the original plan. We'll take down the cells one at a time."
Xavier frowned.
"Atlanta is still the next target, right?" Hanley said. "I just have to push back the schedule a few weeks. I need time to reload. I don't even want to think about how much paperwork is waiting on my desk. And the damn meetings. My schedule is already packed full for the next week."
Xavier shifted his weight back and forth with frustration. "OK. I suppose we took our shot yesterday and missed. At least we're both still alive. That's a good outcome, all things considered. Keeping my head down for the rest of the convention is probably the smartest choice anyway. Once I'm home, I'll have more freedom to operate."
"Call me again in two days. By then I should have a better idea of the schedule going forward, and I'll be in a better mood."
"Bye." Xavier hung up his phone.
He headed back to the dining room. If he was lucky, some food would still be left for him to eat.
* * *
Aaron looked at the line of forty paintball guns placed on a long table. Each was brand new and identical to the rest. The bodies of the guns were made of sculpted aluminum with a soft blue finish. The long black barrels flared slightly at the tip. They were as expensive as real guns and even prettier.
Smythe was working with him as they prepared the guns for use. Aaron had high standards for weapons, even fake ones. He wanted them perfectly calibrated and as accurate as possible. Smythe was currently test firing one gun through a chronograph while Aaron was lubricating another.
"I still can't believe what I heard last night," Smythe said.
"Shh." Aaron looked around. "Keep your voice down."
They were using a classroom as a staging area for the paintball games. Nobody else was in the room, but the door to the hallway was open. Aaron moved closer to Smythe.
"It makes my guts clench," Smythe whispered. "It's bad enough we have to fight God's enemies. Now this. One of our own commanders..."
He fired several rounds through the chronograph and checked the readout. He used a screwdriver to make a tiny adjustment to the gun.
"Now you understand why the preparations for this weekend were so elaborate," Aaron said, "and why the legate was so cautious."
"Yes, sir. It was a beautiful trap. Now we just have to kill the animal it caught."
Smythe fired again.
"What do you think of Hanley?" Aaron said.
"He has the background to be a Spear, but it takes more than background."
"He had a phone conversation with Xavier this morning. The legate and I listened to it a few times."
"How did he do?" Smythe said.
"Not the greatest performance but maybe good enough. Xavier seemed to buy it for now. I think this cat and mouse game will have to end pretty soon. It's too hard to control all the variables. I'm going to recommend to the legate that we finish the game tonight at the banquet."
"A public execution?"
"She wants to make a big deal out of it," Aaron said. "I expect she'll be more expressive with her feelings than usual."
Smythe grimaced. "If you don't mind, sir, I'll stand on the other side of the room."
"I think that side will be very crowded."
Sampson walked into the classroom. He had so much energy he almost bounced with each step. He wore a gray tracksuit and was carrying a white ski hat. His mane of blond hair was as spectacular as always.
"Sir, when does the paintball start?" He grinned.
"You're the first to arrive," Aaron said. "We're tuning up the guns now. We'll probably get the first game going in twenty minutes or so."
Sampson looked at the long line of guns. "Those are nice."
"The best I could find."
"Mind if I have some target practice?"
Aaron pointed at a plastic manikin in the corner of the room. It was already splattered with brightly colored paint. "Try all the guns to make sure they're working right."
"Yes, sir."
Sampson picked up a gun and walked to the far corner of the room. It took a few shots before he figured out the aim. After that he put every paintball in the right eye socket of the manikin.
This is going to be a fun game today, Aaron thought. "You did pretty well yesterday at the tournament. Congratulations."
"I don't think so, sir. I only got to the second round." Sampson switched to the next gun in the line.
"Torngasoak was a tough opponent. I was sure he had you beat, but you figured him out."
"He was using my own energy against me."
Sampson started testing a third gun. His firing stance looked effortless and natural. Aaron took a few mental notes.
"I should also congratulate Xavier," Aaron said. "He trained you."
"Yes, sir. He taught me everything."
"You must feel lucky working for him. He has so much experience."
Sampson nodded. "He's an amazing man."
A flash of unease in Sampson's expression caught Aaron's attention. Sampson knew something important.
"And the team is functioning well? Everybody is happy?"
"We get along," Sampson said. "We do our missions. I have no complaints. Of course, it was a lot better before..."
"What?"
Sampson appeared pained. "The commander used to have a girlfriend, Rhiannon. She was also his second in command. They were a perfect team and loved each other like crazy. She died two years ago on a mission, and he took it really hard. Ever since, he's been... different. He's quiet all the time, and he only talks about work. Being around him isn't much fun anymore."
The relationship sounded uncomfortably similar to the one Aaron had with Marina. He couldn't imagine how he would feel if she died. The grief would be absolutely devastating. It would change his perspective on everything.
"I just remembered I have to take care of something," Aaron said. "Do you mind helping Smythe get the guns ready?"
"No problem, sir," Sampson said.
"Good man." Aaron patted his giant shoulders.
Aaron hurried out of the room. Ethel had already started her day of scheduled meetings, so he knew where to find her. He jogged through the empty hallways of the main building until he came to an office with the title "President" on the door. He heard soft voices on the other side. He knocked politely.
"Come in," Ethel called.
Aaron entered the office. Ethel sat behind a broad desk made of lacquered oak. There was a fake tree in the corner. Faded posters on the walls touted the fun and excitement of Camp Zonta.
Guthrum and another commander were in the room with her. Aaron gave Ethel a look.
She immediately said, "Do you mind if I have a moment alone with Aaron? We'll continue our meeting in a few minutes. Please, wait for me in the dining room."
"Yes, ma'am." The other commander left.
Aaron made sure the hallway was empty and closed the door.
"What?" Ethel said.
"I just got some information from Sampson," Aaron said. "Xavier had a lover named Rhiannon. She was his second in command before she died two years ago. Apparently, the grieving process never ended. My gut tells me this is relevant."
She furrowed her brow. "I don't know the story. It happened before I became the legate."
"Can you call your predecessor, ma'am? What was his name?"
"Charles. He's a very hard man to reach these days."
"He's still with Wesley?" he said.
She nodded. "Every minute of every day."
"Tough duty. One week was more than enough for me."
"Why?" She raised her eyebrows. "He's seemed like a nice boy."
"He's the sweetest kid in the world, always polite and helpful. He never whined about anything. He lived up to his billing as the perfect child."
"Then what was the problem?"
"The constant drama around him," Aaron said. "He couldn't go to the bathroom without somebody confessing to some horrible misdeed along the way. He handed out shocking revelations like they were sticks of bubble gum. It was one crazy emotional mess after another, and Wesley was always the calm eye of the storm. I was completely drained by the end of the week."
"I'll leave a message for Charles. Hopefully, he'll call me back soon."
He nodded. "And I'll find Hector and Yule. Maybe they picked up some new information. They were talking to Xavier during breakfast."
"Good. We may be getting to the end of this unpleasant business."
"I hope so, ma'am."
* * *
Hanley looked out the side window of his car. He was riding in the back seat, and there wasn't much else to do. He was too tired and distracted to tackle his paperwork.
Flat farmland stretched out to the distant horizon. A thin layer of snow covered the ground, but patches of light brown dirt were visible here and there. Lines of bushes marked where one field ended and the next began. Trees were less common, but isolated stands had managed to survive. Perhaps the land was too rocky to farm in those places. High thin clouds broke up an otherwise blue sky.
"Sir!" the driver yelled. "Up ahead!"
Hanley looked forward. Smoke was rising from beside the highway. As they approached, traffic began to back up. It was some kind of major accident.
Hanley had a sick feeling. The Special Missions Unit was travelling in a long caravan, and his car was at the end of the line. There was a good chance the crash had involved some of his men.
"Go around the traffic," he ordered. "Get us closer."
The driver drove along the shoulder.
They got close enough for him to confirm his worst fears. It looked like four cars in the caravan had crashed. Two were still on the highway, but they had rolled over. The other two were off the road and one of those was on fire. He noticed two dead deer with large bloody wounds.
"Stop!" Hanley yelled. "Call the police."
He climbed out of the car and sprinted across the highway. He headed towards the burning car first. It had crashed into a ditch, and the hard impact had crushed the front end.
He looked through the windows. Four men were inside, and all of them appeared unconscious. Hanley yanked on the door, but the frame was bent and the door was wedged in place. The fire was burning with increasing intensity.
He took out a gun and used it to smash a window. He struggled in a vain effort to pull one of the victims out. More men from the Unit began to show up and help him. Working together, they managed to extract two of the wounded. Then the flames drove away the rescuers, and the two victims left behind were burned alive. They never woke up.
Hanley started to hear distant sirens.
He ran to another crashed car and found Colonel Rosecrans on the asphalt. The old man had dragged himself from the wreckage. Blood covered his face from a deep gash in his forehead. Both his legs were broken, and he was having trouble breathing.
Hanley held him. "What happened?"
"Deer," Rosecrans mumbled. "They ran across the road. I survive four wars and then get taken out by a fucking herd of deer." He started to laugh but it turned into a wracking cough.
"The police are almost here. Ambulances won't be far behind."
Rosecrans coughed again and blood came up. "Don't try to comfort me. I'm done
. You're lucky. Looks like I won't get a chance to press charges against you."
Hanley stiffened. Suddenly, this accident didn't seem like such an accident.
"I'm still one of the good guys," he said. "I'm just working for a different outfit now."
"The Gray Spear Society? Fucking terrorists..." Rosecrans' eyes closed.
Hanley watched him die.
The police showed up and took control of the situation. Hanley was relegated to the role of a witness. It took some pestering on his part, but after a half hour he finally got a list of the dead. There were twelve in total including Colonel Rosecrans. The rest were all Army Rangers.
Something about the list of names struck him as familiar. With a shock he realized what it was. Everybody who had entered Camp Zonta last night was now dead. They had escaped the booby traps only to be killed less than a day later. Hanley was the only survivor.
Shaking with emotion, he walked along the shoulder of the highway. He barely looked where he was going. He needed to talk to somebody.
He took out his phone and punched in seven five's angrily. He got a message saying the call couldn't be completed, but that didn't matter.
"Bethany!" he said. "Are you listening? Can anybody hear me?"
There was a click. A woman spoke in a soft, very polite voice. "This is Leanna."
"You sound exactly like Bethany."
"She's my sister. Do you need help?"
"Yes," Hanley said. "I need to talk to Aaron!"
"One moment."
A few seconds later, Aaron's familiar voice answered. "What's wrong?"
"Twelve of my people just died in a car crash," Hanley said. "A herd of deer ran across the road."
"I'm very sorry."
"They were all the survivors from Camp Zonta."
Aaron paused. "Oh."
"You don't sound surprised. Did the Society cause this accident?"
"No. We don't use deer. God just cleaned up the mess from last night and taught you a lesson in the process."
"What do you mean?" Hanley said angrily. "What the hell is going on?"
"Do you remember the legate talking about a curtain around the natural world? We're the creatures who live outside that curtain, and death is right there with us. When ordinary people get involved in our business, shit like this always happens. I've seen it before."
