THE SEVENTH EVENT

by Phillip Shaw

  Markus called over. ‘So Ava, what did you have them make you after training?' it was the standard icebreaker for a new partner. The weapon said a lot about the person. Miller had his Desert Eagle pistol. Overpowered, inaccurate showy. Sulién had the Walther. Standard efficient. And Markus the luger, accurate, traditional. The sound of scraping steel was not what he expected. Ava stood behind him with a long black sword. Markus almost dropped his gun on the range. His mouth gaped as he tried to comprehend what stood before him. The five-foot girl held what could only be described as a honed steel girder. As far as swords went this was not a decorative or elegant weapon. The blade was hinged halfway down bolts protruded out from all over the blade. It was an industrial nightmare the like of which Markus had never seen.

  ‘I made my own.' Ava said running a finger down the blade stopping when she felt her skin part. ‘Want a go?'

  He stepped over setting his gun back in the case. Looking at the weapon again he marvelled at the design. It looked like it had been assembled with a spanner. The grip was simple, moulded into the shape of a hand; there was no hand guard just the hilt which was also sleek metal. He took the blade in his hand, its' weight surprised him although a glance at Ava's arms told him she was practised in using this, trying to get his head around this Markus reacted coldly. ‘The hinge is a weakness, what happens when you bring it out of the sheath'. Ava smiled again and once more Markus was caught in the smile, it was deadly but playful at the same time. She took the blade from him and after reattaching the sheath to her thigh made the blade fold into it. There must be a secret button he thought. She cast off her trench-coat and paced away from him. For the first time, he got a look at the jumpsuit from the back. It resembled a wetsuit but the weave was more like carbon fibre you would see on a sports car.

  ‘Call It.' Ava said.

  ‘Call what?' Markus asked. Before he said another word the blade point was under his chin. Ava in one fluid motion had reached to the sheath like a gunslinger, bringing her arm up at speed had locked the blade in place. Her training had stopped it at his chin. Markus fell back against the wall, collapsing onto his backside. ‘What are you doing, are you fucking mad?' Again she smiled and flicked the blade back into the sheath. Unclipping it she placed it in her case and offered Markus a hand. He sat staring for a moment. This was an adept, someone he had been sworn to protect, place and handle. The other emotion was fear. Markus hadn't been taught to fear them but he did, ever since the training on his mind had first been tested. He feared he could fail, that his greatest weapon could turn against him. He reached for her hand. Gathering himself he regained his cool approach. ‘Tricks with a blade are all well and good, but what's to stop me pulling a trigger and sending a bullet into your skull before you can stick me with your pen knife?'

  ‘Nothing could stop you.' She said looking at him through the fringe of her bob. ‘I can't tell what way you are aiming'. She looked away. ‘We should get going, there will be a jet waiting for us.' Markus had plenty of questions running through his brain, it was the first time in a while he had been challenged. He clipped his case and led Ava out of the room towards the elevator.

  15. Tracks

  Markus followed Ava out the rear door of the compound. Emerging into the evening in Cologne's media park was one of the perks of the location. The river flowed around the modern metropolis of the park's hotels and eating places like a border between the modern and the old town. There was a jet waiting for them at the airport to take them to London from there a trans-Atlantic flight to Dallas and to work. The time for small talk and investigation into Ava's background would be on board. At Markus' request they didn't take a car to the airport, they would travel out as he had come in on the train. Ava had raised questions about the pointlessness of travelling by rail when the order had any number of drivers. I need to see where your loyalties lie, I don't need a driver spying on us and reporting back he thought. What he had said was ‘Ava we need to get used to not having the home comforts of the society at every turn, our American comrades are not always happy to see people from headquarters.'

  They strolled with their travelling cases out of the park avoiding speeding cyclists and late evening slackers on the grassy square. Markus had made this journey hundreds of times and as normal he lit up his cigarette. A disapproving grunt from Ava followed. ‘You don't approve I take it?'

  ‘You are a highly trained machine, honed by the society into a weapon. Why do you limit your lifespan, slow your top speed and develop a cough to be detected while moving silently?'

  ‘Ava in the few minutes I have been partnered to you, you have almost cut my chin in two with that thing you call a sword and complained at every turn. A cigarette now and again might be my only weapon against your ice cool defences.'

  A grunt told him he was getting to her. Despite her ability to control the weaker minded it was he who would have to break down her defences to see what Schultz had been up to pairing them together. Snapper had always taught him to respect a commander's order to his face but if you knew it was wrong, build your case against it before it was too late. This was exactly such a case. Schultz was a strange one. Markus remembered when he was raised to the head of the European division. He was a perfect choice. No field experience meant no bravado, no cock measuring and no battle stories. Schultz was an organiser beyond anything else. In his ten years in charge, they had found more adept than ever before. With each one found and put on the path the order grew more powerful and more influential. Schultz had overseen the improvements made in the headquarters, from the training rooms underground to the living quarters above. In fact, the increase in marriages according to the orders rules was directly attributed to his encouragement of pairing people up with a suitable mate. The order had a higher turnover than ever but the earlier two members were married the sooner their grandchildren could become the new breed.

  Markus has been mentioned for leadership before Schultz, his training scores had been record breaking. Some remarked that he had been fully trained before he joined. Markus allowed himself to be put forward and even got down to the last few ballots but in the end, he was happy enough to carry on as he was. Schultz was the perfect candidate. On the day of his succession, he travelled down to the secret vaults beneath the headquarters to view the histories. They showed the way the order was to continue. All the leaders had to view them; Markus presumed it showed why previous decisions had been made and why they were on the path. To this day, it was his only regret about leadership. His curious mind had always wanted to know about the histories.

  Approaching the train depot they waited with the youths and the other conference-goers who were in no doubt heading to the cathedral quarter's nightclubs. One group had a music amp on wheels and were rolling it around playing some beats to the others waiting. It brought a smile to Markus' face and he noticed a scowl on Ava's. As the train shuttled in Ava hung back. ‘Stent, there is something on the train. I cannot feel its thoughts.' He saw her place her hand on the mechanical blade and he stopped her.

  ‘Look if there is something on this train or platform we can handle it without making mincemeat of the rest of the travellers. One minute onto this journey and already I regret allowing Schultz to make me babysit you. The way it works in the real world is different. If we find one of them here we eliminate them. Could you be wrong? Especially so close to the HQ?'

  She shook her head but calmed noticeably. The train stopped and they entered taking a seat near the back. Ava still sat staring out the window as if nothing was wrong but Markus could see she was rattled, like a coiled snake ready to strike. All he had to do was make sure it didn't lead to a clean-up operation before they even left the city. Markus scanned the train occupants. Two with visible tickets to the trade show, joking about the efficiency of German trains, four young women dressed up and ready for a night on the town, an older gentleman reading the newspaper, another sitting with large headphones on listening to…. Wait. The youth with the headphones on was s
weating profusely as if a great pressure was building on him. He was sitting with his head bowed, rocking in time with the music. The sweat rolled on. Markus had to be sure. He sat down beside Ava, pointing out the youth. In a flash she struck him with a stare, the teen almost physically convulsed and grabbed at his headphones. Ava quickly averted and stared out the window again, a quick hand signal confirmed it to Markus. He has to be taken out.

  Moving away from Ava over nearer the target Markus looked away from him into the window all the while keeping the reflection in view. He saw the youth look over at Ava again. Then he stood up and started to move towards her, the earphones were still audible to Markus as he moved past him. Noticing a bulging backpack he waited until the youth was level with Ava; Markus turned quickly and hit the youth with his shoulder. The blow sent the target into the seat beside Ava and Markus heard a sickening noise. The life left the youth's eyes and his head bowed down. Markus sat down opposite and saw what had happened. Ava still held the sword on her lap, her knuckles white with pressure and the tendons on her forearm braced. The blade had entered the teen's body and separated the ribs. It was now the only thing keeping him upright. The blood was beginning to seep through his clothes and Markus reached across to allow the blade to be withdrawn. He stopped again.

  ‘Ava, look in his hand.' He whispered. In his hand was a small button with a wire leading to the backpack. Ava saw it and switched seats, the body still sat upright. Markus pulled the cap down over his face and reached for the bag. One look inside was all that he needed. ‘Bomb' he said. Ava removed the hand control and tucked it into the dead man's pocket. The train pulled in at the Cathedral stop and the others got out. Markus reached for his phone and dialled headquarters. A clean up it is.

  Standing looking out at the jet being refuelled Markus went over the events on the train to Ava again. ‘He knew we would be there, it's the only explanation. They know about the search.'

  ‘Not necessarily, he could have been targeting the Headquarters, he was close enough.'

  ‘Ava there hasn't been a denouncer seen in Cologne before let alone a mile from headquarters; the borders to this city are kept marshalled by our members. It's a secret police state.'

  ‘I have been trained you know. I know what Cologne is like Stent. It has to be a rare coincidence. He must have been a terrorist for some radical sect, the fact that he was a denouncer as well was the strange part, but then radicalism is in their nature.'

  The cold sneer at that last comment had Markus on edge. Here beside him was the first known adept to be allowed to train in the order and he hadn't even begun to question that when they nearly blew sky high just a mile from the headquarters. Nothing about this day had made sense. The battlefield revealing itself, searching for the demigods and now this. He turned to her and stared. The airport lights reflected in her dark eyes, he wondered who was going to be babysitting who.

  They moved over to the seats in their private lounge. Their travelling cases would already be on board, each biometrically locked to the individual but their weapons were close, Markus took out the Luger. It had served him so well in the past but just as the night, he lost his first partner it wouldn't have been enough to save them if a single button had been pressed. Ava didn't draw her sword. She had cleaned it and wiped it with the precision of a craftsman as soon as the train station had been isolated by the members posing as police. The Magisters would run a small story to explain the delays tomorrow. Probably a contagious disease carrier or a drug mule. The feed would then go to Blain in London before being regurgitated to the masses. Markus wondered if Blain was behind the attack. He knew he had dirt on the whole world but even he couldn't enlist the help of a denouncer. Miller had spoken once of his relationship with Blain while in a drinking contest with the other leaders. He made out of course that he was the force in the relationship but no one believed that. When he needed more to go on he started to let secrets slip.

  Miller claimed Blain was scared of denouncers, so scared that he didn't leave the tower. Markus didn't believe it. Blain was the most powerful adept discovered by the order. Placed into the most influential position. They could have put him at the head of a religious group or even in charge of a country but Schultz knew how powerful the media was becoming. The only question in Markus' mind about that arrangement was Does he have any idea how powerful Blain is? Miller was in his control, Markus was certain of it. Maybe not by the mind but by something and he used Miller as a spy. It was the only reason why Blain's name had come up in Magister business. The rest might not have been smart enough to see it but Markus was and when this mission was over he would take a sabbatical in London. Someone needed to keep an eye on Blain.

  Ava stood and walked over to the handrail. Markus couldn't help but stare at her perfect physique. Clearly trained in martial arts from her stance, she had to have had gymnast training as well. He wondered how on earth he was going to blend in with this beauty beside him. They needed back stories for locals. No one would believe the weather-beaten fair-haired Scandinavian and the lithe blonde were lovers. Perhaps the gymnast and her coach would work in the States. The gymnast walked over to him.

  ‘What are you staring at Stent. I don't need to read your mind to tell. Men have looked at me like that since I was fifteen.'

  ‘I was just wondering if you could do a handstand.' He joked. Without another breath, she had landed on her feet again. Definitely gymnast. He smiled, ‘I think we have our back stories.'

  The jet crew waved them over and they headed on to the plane. Sitting on swivel seats Markus got his notebook out and set out the questions he had in mind for the flight. By the time they landed, he would have to know who Ava was if they were going to coexist.

  16. Highway

  Libero glanced across to his right. His companion, Pamela was sleeping. The road ahead stretched on for miles. In the darkness, he wondered at this life. He had never felt so free. Behind the wheel of the vehicle, he could go anywhere as it was they were just getting across the state lines. The memories of the host's body had proven useful. He could drive, he knew his way around the country and he knew that he had to get as far away as the scene of his awakening. That wasn't knowledge it was instinct.

  The road had no undulations, no twists or turns just therapeutic miles of tarmac leading him away. He felt deep inside that this would be one of the few times he would be allowed to think, plan and prepare. Despite being given this opportunity he did nothing. He just stared at the scan given by the headlights ahead, watched the centreline do a hypnotic dance to his left. He looked at the fuel gauge. Half full. The vehicle had been easy to procure. They had simply asked its owner.

  After being let off by the laundry worker he and Pamela had been in a small town. Eager to get on their way he left her sitting in a diner, nursing a coffee. The effects of being in his presence were starting to manifest themselves. Pamela was a ball of energy; she literally wanted to take them off into the sunset and on a world of adventure. It was all he could do to calm her down. She was brighter than he first thought. After only a few minutes, the conversation had begun.

  ‘You're not normal are you? I...I mean there's something you do to people; they just drop everything to help you. Look at me. I've followed you halfway across the state without a thought to my job or the consequences!'

  ‘It feels right, doesn't it?' Libero said quietly, all the while scanning the inhabitants of the diner for signs of trouble. He took Pamela's smile and silence to show that he had gained a follower. He would need more before the end. Pamela played with the sugar dispenser. His memories of her were fond, not playful like this. She was always authoritative. She had analysed every aspect of the case that James had been in. She said it felt like she was fighting against some immovable source. Libero didn't need to hear those memories. The meeting with the governor in the prison made sense now. He had been sent there for a reason.

  Pamela interrupted his thoughts. ‘What's that symbol mean?' he looked down. Subconsciousl
y he had scraped an upside down triangle into the table. ‘It's nothing.'

  Having left her there he wandered across to a group of men drinking outside a bar. They needed transport and he was going to have to procure it from somewhere. The men standing were miserable. He could feel it in them. Poor jobs, money worries, single and other depressant dalliances occupied their minds. Walking over he could feel the pressures lifting from them. They each raised their faces to the newcomer and smiled.

  ‘I am in need of a vehicle, I don't suppose any of you fine gentlemen would lend me your keys?' almost in unison the three men began reaching into their pockets. One a tall man with a moustache and prominent belt buckle stepped forward. ‘With an accent like that, you could charm the birds from the trees.' This man seemed the happiest, he had no cares about his marriage, no major money worries, Libero knew he could lose this vehicle. He sensed a feeling in the man. Guilt. He didn't know what for, it was something recent. Whatever it was the man didn't know himself. Either he had convinced himself it didn't happen or it was personal guilt. In any case, he had a vehicle and they needed it.