The Dead Pools
Page 10
Although it was a converted conference room instead of an official courtroom the atmosphere inside was tense and grim. The Captain and two serious looking men sat behind a long table that had been wedged into a corner to give the room a judicial feel. I identified DDO Chamberlain immediately; he was the only one not in uniform. He was older, early sixties I guessed, with thinning silver hair and sporting a pair of the darkest glasses I’d ever seen. Though the stygian lenses hid his eyes, I felt certain they’d locked onto me from the moment I entered the room.
Between the Captain and the DDO sat Major Lansing who was the senior officer in charge of Shadow Company operations in the Southeast. Rumor had it that his youngest son served in a Company unit based in Oregon. I’d only met the man once before, when I’d been assigned to Captain Reynolds’ unit eighteen months back. He had a reputation as being tough, but fair and I was hopeful that having two Company officers on my tribunal would work in my favor.
I was so focused on the men behind the table that I nearly missed the fact that the rest of my unit sat in the back of the room. Nunez and Stevens made eye contact as I passed, but gave me no outwards signs of encouragement. Ramirez grinned and flashed me the sign for ‘wait’. Wait for what, I didn’t know, but I hoped he meant the fix was in.
Manx, still bruised and wearing another sterile uniform, stood off to one side and glared at me as I made my way through the room. Once I settled into the single chair set before the table, he stepped forward to address the panel.
“Before I begin, I’d like to once again object to the presence of Private Le Mort’s unit in these proceedings.”
“We’ve already been over this, Agent,” the Major said. “It has already been ruled that for reasons of troop morale and effectiveness, there will be no more secrets. These men have to rely upon each other under extraordinary circumstances. You’ve made serious allegations against two of these men and the unit deserves to know what happens here rather than struggle with rumors that may affect their cohesion.”
“I hardly feel—
“Your feelings are not relevant, Agent. Kindly get on with your charges and stop wasting the board’s time.”
Manx glanced towards the DDO, silently pleading for him to intercede, but received no help from that quarter either. Instead the DDO nodded giving me the feeling that he and Manx were working through a prearranged script. Was there some objective they were working towards that I didn’t understand?
“I’ll save the court some time and not parade Private Le Mort’s past offenses. There isn’t any point. The military mistakenly believed that they could integrate Le Mort into a functioning Shadow Company unit. His history in the unit proves differently. This isn’t the first time that he’s been accused of trafficking with dark forces. Something that the military seems unwilling to confront.”
I didn’t listen to what Manx was prattling on about. Instead I stared at the three men behind the table and tried to get a read. The DDO nodded along with everything Manx said, while the Captain and Major Lansing sat with stony faces. It may have been wishful thinking on my part, but I thought the Captain looked bored. It made me wonder if all of this weren’t just play acting and if so, for whose benefit?
Had my future already been decided and we were just walking through the necessary steps or was there something more important happening that I didn’t realize? I should have been paying more attention to the nuances, but the jag kept my focus scampering about the room. I had to force myself to listen to Manx as he wound up his speech.
“Any and all of the proceeding charges are serious enough to have Private Le Mort remanded back into my custody, but the final charge is the by far the most serious. Yesterday, at approximately 1500, Private Julian Le Mort did encourage and summon forth a Class E malicious spirit, the demonic entity currently unknown, but suspected to be La Santisima Muerte, otherwise known as the Handmaiden to Hell.”
“Class E malicious spirit, that’s rich,” Ramirez snickered.
“I’d watch your mouth Corporal if I were you,” the DDO snapped from the table. “You’re charged as an accessory for most of these crimes and additionally for striking an Officer, which is a Court Marshall offense.”
Ramirez flipped the DDO the bird and the Major stepped in before things careened out of control. “Mr. Chamberlain, although I agree that the Corporal acted impetuously, the UCMJ does not define civilians working for the OSS as Military Officers and therefore his striking of your agent is not considered a crime.”
The DDO sputtered and started to argue, but the Major wouldn’t have any of it. “Testimony has already been entered by Sergeant MacKenzie that the Corporal and Private Le Mort were conducting an undercover investigation of the Fulton County jail. Shadow Company’s methods are highly irregular, but that is due to the nature of our enemy, therefore counts one through ten in your indictment are struck. We will only consider the charge of practicing black magick, which is a death penalty offence in the Company. Our judgment will be final.”
DDO Chamberlain shot to his feet. “Sir, in a standard court of law—
“This is not a court of law, Mr. Chamberlain. This is Shadow Company. Under our rules of engagement, even if your agent had been a military officer who thank God he is not, Corporal Ramirez would have been within his rights to strike him. We’ve already heard testimony that he was about to break a circle, Sir. A circle, which from our perspective was the only barrier containing the spirit you accuse the Private of summoning. Had he done so he would have released a malicious spirit upon an unprepared populace. Now sit-down Sir and allow the Private to explain what he was doing prior to the spirit’s arrival.”
“It’s called a Ghost Walk, Sir. I first heard about it in the Camps. It’s a method of going beyond a simple scrying and projecting yourself into the scene displayed. I’d hoped to discover further evidence of where the spirit had been summoned from and who else may have been involved.”
“And did you find that evidence?”
“No sir. Before I was able to follow the original spell back to its origin I was confronted by Manx’s class E malicious spirit.” My unit snickered behind me. I couldn’t help myself. I knew that Manx didn’t understand what was going on, but everyone else with the exception of the DDO did. Spirits are broadly categorized as either major or minor, while demons are broken down into nine choirs, just as their angelic forebears are. The statement that it was a class E malicious spirit was nonsense and underscored how little the OSS understood of these matters.
“You were attempting to summon the spirit?”
“No Sir. I was attempting to flee. I had never tried the Ghost Walk before and I was unaware of the potential dangers. I had no idea that a spirit would be able to follow me back through the link.”
“Very well,” the Major replied. “The Private will return to quarters and stay there under guard until this tribunal has rendered its decision. All other charges are dropped.”
Before we could be dismissed Manx jumped up with a final objection. “I want him branded,” he shouted. “The Witchcraft and Sorcery Acts are quite clear. All casters must be marked so as to be readily identified by the mundane population. For Sorcerers the courts have settled upon the three-tiered bracelet system, but Wiccans have always worn the Brand.”
“You son of a bitch,” I cried, but the Major silenced me with a wave of his hand.
As the members of the tribunal bent their heads together to conference, I caught my first glimpse behind the DDO’s dark glasses. Hidden behind the dark lenses was the unmistakable starburst pattern of scars I’d seen around the eye of the American in Ortiz’s memory. Too stunned by the realization I failed to follow the whispered conversation between the members until it was too late.
Nodding agreement, the members turned back towards me. That was all it took to strip me of my greatest asset to the Company, the ability to move undetected. “It is so ordered.”
Chapter 15
Fort Benning, Sunday 19:00
Despite their enormous protections, the data would leak. It always does. What’s the big deal, we’re just witches? Even if my particular frequency remained secret, a skilled caster could detect the vibe and know that a witch was in the area. It would eliminate my ability to hide within the general population. It also eliminated my ability to work undercover.
My ability to blend in wasn’t the only reason that I was useful to Shadow Company, but it was a big part of it. Manx might not have ended my career, but he’d made an end run around it. If I could be tracked, then any unit I was embedded in could be tracked as well and that made me a danger to my team. How long would it be before one of them decided that their safety outweighed my usefulness?
As much as I loved my unit, once I was branded, I’d have to keep one eye open. The men that Shadow Company employed were trained to make the tough decisions, make the call that no one else would. They wouldn’t be happy about it, but they wouldn’t hesitate either if the unit’s existence were about to be compromised.
At least it would be quick and clean. I wondered who’d pull the trigger as I was led away. Not Mac, strange as it seemed, I didn’t think the Irishman would do it. He was too righteous in his beliefs; he wouldn’t be able to justify murder. Ramirez and Stevens were the battlemages, they were the most likely to make the hard call. I’d like to eliminate Ramirez from my list, but he could use our friendship to get in close. He’d pull the trigger if he had to, he’d fight it until the end, but when push came to shove the hammer would fall.
I spotted Nunez while I was being escorted to my quarters and my blood ran cold. So soon, I thought. He was standing in the shadows cast by one of the buildings, but when I turned my head to get a better look he was gone. That’s when I knew it was him. Nunez is our point man, our scout and sniper. He’s scary good, a natural ninja who doesn’t hide so much as become unseen.
I know it’s a fine point, but it’s difficult to be clearer. I’d known a man once, years ago, who could wrap the shadows around himself and disappear even at high noon. Nunez wasn’t of that caliber; his gift lay in the fact that he could become so unremarkable that you just didn’t notice him. You’d be walking through a crowd or even a deserted plain and suddenly he’d be at your side, scaring the crap out of you because you were completely sure that you were alone.
I craned my head around and slowed to see if I could catch another glimpse, but that just pissed off my guards. One of them reached up to grab my arm before spotting the Special Forces patch and thinking better of it.
“We’ve got to keep moving, Le Mort,” he said. “Don’t cause any trouble. We’re just doing our job.”
Both of my guards were beefy MP’s, of a size and stature that was intimidating to a normal person. They were scarred brawlers, used to taking down combat trained soldiers, but they hesitated to put their hands on me. I could use that, I thought. There’s a touch of fear inside them that’s peeking around their normal braggadocio. They’d hesitate before committing to the fight, not long, but just long enough if I made a break for it.
That’s when Nunez made his move. I was turning back to tell the MP that I’d just been startled when it happened. One moment the street we walked down was clear and the next Nunez was right in front of me. It happened so quickly that the MP’s didn’t have time to react.
Almost before I could register the fact, he was there. Time slowed in the curious way it does during an auto accident. I don’t know if it’s the adrenaline or just the god’s sick humor that writes every nanosecond into your memory. One instant the street was clear and in the next Nunez was bumping into my chest. I saw a glint of sunlight on the blade in his hand and heard the rip of material as it sliced through my pocket.
The MP’s hauled me back, but it was already over. Nunez was on the ground apologizing profusely and exclaiming that he hadn’t seen us. His hands were empty, fingers jumping as if he’d dropped something. I thought I caught the sign for ‘switch’, but I couldn’t be sure.
I was surprised that there wasn’t any blood. Had he missed or had I misread everything? I could have sworn I’d seen a knife. By the time I looked back up Nunez was gone and the MP’s were struggling to figure out what had happened.
“Are you alright, Private?” one of them asked as if he’d only just realized that I might have been hurt.
I nodded that I was fine, too shocked to speak. My heart banged against my ribs in delayed reaction. I could have been killed in a fraction of a second. It was the smart move. Why hadn’t Nunez done it? I’d seen the knife, I was sure of it.
I ran my hands down my uniform to confirm that there wasn’t a knife sticking out of me. Could he have poisoned me, was that it? Just a quick nick and I’d stumble a few minutes later, dying of an apparent heart attack.
Just before I reached the bottom of my uniform, I discovered the cut. It wasn’t a big hole, maybe an inch long. How could Nunez have missed? It astonished me, but then I found what he’d left.
Inside my pocket was a lump that hadn’t been there before. I shook my head and told the MP’s that I was fine. It was just a clumsy soldier. The sun must have been in our eyes.
The MP’s glanced over at one another, their instincts telling them that something wasn’t right. They argued about whether or not they should report the incident while I slipped my left hand into my pocket. Inside I found a plastic bulb with a stopper at the end. I couldn’t risk pulling it out to see what it was without the MP’s seeing so I palmed it.
Nunez had told me ‘switch’, but if there had been anything else to the message, I hadn’t caught it. What the hell had that been about? There was something important about the bulb I held in my hands, something important enough that Nunez risked passing it to me in front of the guards. What was I missing?
My guards decided it would be better for their report if they didn’t mention the clumsy soldier that had bumped me. If they did, they’d have to explain how someone had gotten so close. Instead they chose to hustle me to my quarters to make up for any time they might have lost because of the incident.
Manx was waiting at my door when we ran up. We spotted him about a block away, but the MP’s didn’t slow their approach. If they stopped their jog now, it would be obvious that they were trying to hide the fact, so we kept going. Manx wasn’t so easily deceived.
“What are you running for, soldiers?” he asked. “Did something happen along the way?”
The MP who’d spoken earlier, lied like a pro. “No sir, sorry sir. The fact is that I’m scheduled to go off duty soon and I didn’t want any delays. I’m meeting my girl, Sir. You know how it is.”
Manx looked him up and down, knowing that something was out of place, but not sure what it was. The soldier’s story sounded plausible enough to me, but Manx was just too suspicious. He looked me over and noticed the cut on my uniform immediately.
“What happened there,” he pointed to my pocket.
I looked down and tried to act surprised. “Oh shit, I tore this one last week and was supposed to have it mended. I just never got around to it, is all.”
Manx immediately reached over and patted the pocket down.
“Trying to catch a feel?” I asked. “You’re off a bit.”
He hauled off and bitch-slapped me before I saw it coming. I must be getting slow. I had to fight to keep from raising my hand and exposing the bulb I held. “Don’t get smart with me, Julie,” he sneered.
“Nothing happened on the way over here?” he asked the guards.
They looked at each other and shook their heads, “Nothing to report, Sir.”
I could tell Manx didn’t believe them. His suspicions had been roused, but he hadn’t found anyt
hing in my pocket. He stood there for a moment trying to stare us down, but no one broke. Eventually he shrugged. I could tell he was still suspicious, but he had nowhere to go with it.
“Did you just come to see me safely to my quarters,” I asked. “Or maybe you want to tuck me in for the night?”
“You can keep up the smartass attitude, Julie,” Manx smirked. “I got your Branding moved up. I brought a specialist down from Langley with me and he should have everything set up by now. I apologize to your girlfriend, Lewis, but it seems as if you’ll be late after all.”
My guards grumbled, but they turned me back around while Manx led the way. He chatted as we walked. He was feeling cocky. Once I’d been Branded he’d be at the start of a slow motion win.
As far as I could tell we were walking back the same way we’d come, which made me wonder why they’d bothered ordering me back to my quarters first. Had Manx truly outmaneuvered them by bringing down a specialist from Langley? Had the Captain hoped to appeal my Branding to a higher authority or had he something else on his mind?
From the size and shape of the bulb in my hand, I guessed that Nunez had slipped me tattoo ink. If so, then the Captain had been ready for Manx’s demand. Manx moved quickly, too quickly for the Captain to substitute the doctored ink beforehand. But the Captain had been prepared for that eventuality.
Manx tipped his hand when he’d flown down with the tattooist from Langley. Civilians frequently assume that anyone in the military isn’t smart enough to compete in the private sector. It’s a mistake we’re happy to exploit. While Manx concentrated on outmaneuvering the Captain by Branding me earlier than expected, the Captain prepared a counter-move.
Or so I hoped. Even if he’d gotten a bulb of regular tattoo ink into my hands, I still had to switch it and that wasn’t going to be easy. Manx was sure to be present in order to gloat. He’d never forget the three agents that died on his watch. This was payback.