Rogue Ops: Rogue Agents of Magic™ Book 1

by Cameron, TR

  She pushed the hair out of her eyes with a curse. “Damn cowards, running away and taking their artifacts with them. Stark, stay on overwatch. Khan, Face, do a sweep, and clean up the magic items you find. Rambo, give them a hand. Croft, interrogate anyone who’s still conscious. You all know the drill.”

  Cara replied, “Not helping out, boss?”

  “I have a thing. I need to get moving. This took longer than expected.”

  Sloan Woodham, the team’s spy, said in a lascivious tone, “And by thing you mean Bryant, our big boss. Your boyfriend.”

  Cara added, “Or perhaps she means Bryant’s thing.”

  Diana sighed. “All of you, shut the hell up and get to work.” But she said it with a smile, and she was still grinning as she portaled back to the vimana to get ready for her long-delayed date night with Bryant.

  Chapter Four

  Bryant Bates stepped out of the portal in the same spot he always did, a small service hallway that held the single gap in the building’s anti-magic defenses. The Senate complex was a maze of hallways and offices, some at ground level, some above, some beneath. His contact had been moved into a newly built, even lower excavation several months before, and Bryant found his way to the staircase that led downward.

  He’d tucked a piece of tech Emerson had designed inside the knot of his tie. It would cause the video cameras to see either a fuzzy image of his face or one too blurred to make out. The sophisticated watch on his left wrist connected to it wirelessly to assist in its work. The powerful computer, similar to the ones the agents wore in their tactical gear, also fed the thin, round-framed spectacles perched on his nose. They were a custom version of the agent’s glasses because he needed to stand out rather than resemble them for political purposes. Gotta seem like the boss, not part of the crew.

  He knocked on the door of Finley’s office, and a voice from beyond said, “Come.” He strode in, and his closest government ally rose from behind his elegant wooden desk to shake his hand. “Bryant, always good to see you. Thanks for stopping by.”

  He took one of the seats across the polished surface as the man lowered himself back into his own. The senator from Rhode Island’s normally crew-cut brown hair was a little long today, but he still held himself with a decidedly military bearing, as fit his background. “So, I hear your team is out on an op today?”

  Bryant nodded. “Same old, same old. More artifacts to gather. I’m starting to think the number we received was incorrect, that the bastard created more of them. Or maybe someone followed up on Rhazdon’s work somehow.”

  The senator raised a perfectly trimmed eyebrow. “You have evidence of that?”

  He sighed and reclined in his seat, shaking his head. He tapped the metal bracelet on his right wrist on the chair’s arm, a habit he’d developed shortly after receiving the illusion detection device. “When do I ever have solid evidence of anything? We operate mainly on innuendo, guided by word on the street. My folks are as much a group of detectives as a team of tactical agents.”

  Finley nodded. “The magical FBI, yeah, I get it. Listen, people are talking, which is why I wanted you to come in.”

  Bryant replied, “People?”

  His reply was decisive and serious. “People. Who shall not be named, even in this office.” Bryant looked around suspiciously. “Yes, it’s been checked for listening devices this morning, as always. Don’t worry, I believe in my government, but I don’t trust the people in it blindly.”

  He nodded. His watch had also searched for surveillance the moment he’d entered the room, and the overlay in his glasses had reported that they were clear. Still, I’ve been accused of paranoia once or twice, and not inappropriately. “So, I don’t get to know what kind of people are talking, but I presume they’re either notably placed or the subject under discussion is important.”

  Finley nodded. “Both. Bluntly, folks are wondering whether your team has too much latitude. That, of course, is cover for what they really think, which is that your girlfriend is amassing a little arsenal of magical items. Naturally, she’ll use them to overthrow the White House or some such thing.”

  Well, part of that might not be too far off the mark. While Diana would never take action against the government any more than he would, he was pretty sure not every item and artifact her team recovered found its way into the official record. They’d never discussed it explicitly. Instead, they’d engaged in their little version of don’t ask, don’t tell to allow him to speak truthfully on the matter if anyone questioned him. Bryant shrugged. “Possible. I can honestly say I know nothing about it.”

  Finley nodded. “Smart.” The two men exchanged smiles. “That doesn’t change the fact that important people are asking difficult questions. Eventually, they’ll move from talking over drinks to talking in committees, or worse, subpoenaing the principals involved. I don’t imagine you or Diana would enjoy that experience much.”

  “Nor do we have time for it. I appreciate the heads up, though. I’ll make sure I keep an overnight bag packed in case I get summoned. Is that all that’s worrying you?”

  Finley shook his head. “There’s a particular pair of senators that have been speaking more harshly than the rest. Interestingly, they’re bipartisan, from the same state.”

  Bryant laughed. “The one thing our government manages to get both parties to agree to is harassing my team?”

  The other man shrugged and gave a soft snort. “Right? Seems like a strange happening, but that’s politics for you. Anyway, they’re discussing taking specific actions without going through the arduous process of gathering facts.”

  Bryant frowned. “Like what?”

  “Congressional oversight. Probably public congressional oversight, given the way they’re talking.”

  “You mean changing the team’s mandate? Bring them formally under government control again and let the world know they’re there?”

  The other man replied, “I could see it going in that direction. Which is why I wanted to make sure to inform you. Because if the team does go visible, any corners they cut, any secrets they kept, might find their way into the light as well.”

  This will put a damper on my date with Diana. He shook his head and rose, sticking out a hand. “Thanks, Aaron. I appreciate your candor, as always.”

  It took his ally a moment to get up from his chair, and when their hands met, a hard plastic object pressed into Bryant’s palm. He released the other man’s grip and held the item in place as he dropped his hand to his side. He’d pocket it later, not wanting to seem too obvious about it in case eyes were watching that neither of them had detected. Finley gave him a serious look, though his tone was light. “Be careful out there, my friend.”

  He nodded. “Will do. Thanks again, Senator.” For the warning, and for whatever this thing is.

  * * *

  Bryant climbed behind the wheel of his SUV in the garage under his apartment building. If his team was under investigation or observation, he held little doubt that he was, as well. The notion of people doing surveillance on the vimana made him chuckle inwardly. If anyone’s down there in Antarctica keeping an eye on Diana, I hope they dressed in layers. A lot of layers.

  He drove out of the city and into the suburbs, pulling in at a diner he frequented at least once a week when he was in town, usually more. He found a table along the window-covered outer wall, ordered a big breakfast although it was the dinner hour, and headed for the restroom. Normally he’d use the food-prep time perusing websites on his phone or texting with Diana, but that item was currently locked in a signal-blocking case in the SUV’s armrest. It was a highly secure device, but he still didn’t want it coming with him where he was going.

  It was probable that the government would find his car fairly easily, even though he regularly removed the trackers that inexplicably wound up upon it. He assumed they were from his side since he wasn’t very visible to the world’s criminal element but treated them all as hostile acts. For what he planned, he d
idn’t need too much time, maybe seven minutes. So, if they got there even after a few of them, his visit to the restroom wouldn’t seem outrageously long. He closed the stall door, opened a portal, and crossed the threshold to his secret bolt hole.

  Most agents had something like it, a safe place they could retreat to, usually containing survival gear and other necessities. He had multiple locations to stay in and equipment stored in several different places, being a paranoid sort. This one, though, was his most secretive and best hidden. It was a featureless room with poured concrete walls, floor, and ceiling, forming a rectangle about ten feet in one direction and five in the other. The most appealing thing about it was that it had no doors and was concealed entirely in the subbasement of an old building.

  One of the smaller walls held a set of shelves with food, water, weapons, and medical supplies, along with eight prepaid phones, still in their packages. None of that interested him at the moment. What he needed was on the other side of the room.

  A beat-up table supported a desktop computer with a large monitor. It was running an out-of-date operating system because it had never once connected to the Internet. Kayleigh and Deacon had built it for him, and he’d brought it straight here when they’d finished it. He hit the button to power it up, electricity provided by a secret tap into the building’s supply. He slid the flash drive that Finley had passed to him into the appropriate slot and called up the contents.

  His concern increased with each new layer inside the folder. One section was marked personnel, and in it, he found the official government files of all the people who worked for ARES, both Diana’s team and the units in other cities. He was somewhere between impressed and appalled at the amount of detail they’d gathered.

  Diana’s file mentioned Rath, and Cara’s included a suspicion that she was dating another team member. Where the hell are they getting that information? Audio surveillance while they’re in the field, maybe? I can’t imagine they’ve cracked the base’s systems or the encrypted comms. Kayleigh and Deacon would never let that happen.

  The next folder held blueprints. Each of the ARES locations was present, with complete building schematics. He’d reflexively assumed that they wouldn’t include the vimana since both it and Diana’s presence in it were top secret. Still, it too was rendered in all its two-dimensional line-representation glory.

  It didn’t include the alterations Diana’s team had made, which was the first moment of relief he’d had since clicking on the flash drive. It meant no one had infiltrated to see it, that their efforts to keep official guests away from discovering the changes had been successful. There hadn’t been many visits, but there had been some. Still, it was a lot of information that, by all rights, should’ve been kept more secure than this.

  He clicked through the rest: records of salary payments, vehicle identification numbers for the cars allocated to the teams, even credit card statements of the Special Agents in Charge. He smiled when he came across the email repository because the first one he saw was from Emerson, and it was a list of complaints about how he wasn’t getting the supplies he needed. Bryant had heard the man say such things in person so many times that it was like an old friend tapping him on the shoulder.

  When he finished with his quick survey of the information, he leaned back with a sigh. Okay, it’s not good, but we can deal with it. Bryant shoved the flash drive in his pocket and portaled to the diner’s restroom. He’d been gone for a little less than five minutes, and as he returned to the table, he noted the dark-suited man in the corner who had the look of an FBI agent. He was careful not to make eye contact or reveal he’d noticed him as he sat down in time to receive his veggie and cheese omelet, with a pile of hash browns on top of it and a stack of pancakes on the side. The waitress set ketchup, hot sauce, and maple syrup in front of him, along with a carafe of coffee and a cola. He grinned. “You’re the best, Sheila.”

  She nodded with a smile. “I know, but it’s always good to hear it.” The woman was matronly, older, a little chubby, with tight blonde hair piled on her head so it would stay out of her way while she worked. She lowered her voice and asked, “Friend of yours in the corner?”

  He didn’t look away from her. “Could be. Government likes to keep tabs on other parts of the government, you know. He been here long?”

  “About five minutes after you.”

  “Impressive. Well, treat him decently. No need to poison him, this time. But be sure to keep our options open.”

  She laughed and turned away. He busied himself with food in front of him and mulled what he’d found on the flash drive in his mind. Only one conclusion emerged from his review, and he didn’t like it at all.

  Finley wouldn’t have been so secretive about handing it over if that’s all that was on the flash drive. I mean, I have clearance for most of that stuff. So it must hold something more, something he was worried about sharing. Guess this will be a project for Kayleigh and Deacon.

  Chapter Five

  Rath slotted weighted sticks into the sheaths that normally held his knives. Kayleigh had 3D printed the items for him, and they were about the same size and weight as his throwing blades. Plus, they had sensors on the base and the point so he’d know which end struck and so the computer systems could allocate damage accordingly.

  The rest of his outfit was the team’s standard practice gear, reduced to adjust for his smaller stature. It consisted of a vest and sleeves with impact sensors, legs the same, and his custom display goggles. The training suits were special in that they mimicked damage taken by locking up enough to hamper motion or freezing entirely to take someone out of the fight.

  Around him, his partners for the session were donning their gear. Cara was closest to him and had chosen no replacements for her artifact daggers, instead preferring the pistols on her thighs and a rifle dangling from the strap attached to her shoulder. She wore the gloves and boots that they all did, also wired to sense impact locations and intensity.

  Tony and Anik filled out the group. The former detective carried mismatched pistols, the team’s standard Glock 17 in his left holster and a Desert Eagle in the other. All the weapons were training replicas, naturally, operating exactly like their real ones but discharging laser light instead. They even ejected shells, where appropriate, because early runs had revealed that some of the agents unconsciously used the falling shells as an aid to keep track of how many rounds they had left. It was a small thing, but small things mattered in combat. Sometimes they matter more than anything. And I should know because I’m small. He laughed to himself and asked, “Are we ready?”

  Anik Khan finished attaching grenade canisters to a bandolier that ran across his chest and nodded. The small scars that covered one side of his face stood out on his tan skin. “Good here.”

  Cara and Tony confirmed they were ready as well. Tony continued, “I’ll partner with Rath for the first run, so you lovebirds can have some quality time together.” The other two responded with matching groans, while Rath laughed and made kissing noises like he did whenever people on the team dating came up.

  Cara growled, “Just hit the button.”

  Rath shouted, “I’ll do it,” and jumped up on the bench that ran in front of the lockers. He ran along it and leapt, somersaulting twice in the air before slapping his hand on a large red button set next to a computer control panel. He landed cleanly as the room started to move.

  Technically, it wasn’t the room that moved. The chamber they occupied was a cavernous rectangle, easily a football field in one direction and about a third of that in the other. One end of it held weights and exercise machines, along with lockers and some other incidentals. A series of cubes, a foot on each side, filled much of the rest of it. A flurry of computer arms mounted on the walls and the ceilings could arrange in any structure they requested.

  The objects had been stacked on the back wall, occupying about half of the room’s area, when they’d entered. Now, as they watched, the system created walls and c
eilings, stairs, and corners. Occasionally, doors would slide down, gathered from a storage area in the rear, and destined for destruction in one way or another.

  It took somewhere between five and ten minutes for the system to complete the process. Rath lost track of time, entranced by how the arms all worked together to create the training space. It was a ridiculously sophisticated piece of technology, an upgrade from the unit they’d had in Pittsburgh, which had used autonomous forklifts to move the cubes, taking far longer.

  Kayleigh complained that this one was far more apt to break down, that it cost her and Hank way too much time in maintenance and repair. Still, improved efficiency meant they could create more complicated structures in less time. And time was a vital concern these days, as they ran around the country and the world looking for Rhazdon artifacts. Finding opportunities to train is non-negotiable.

  Anik and Cara disappeared into one of the three entrance hallways the computer had created. The team’s standard rule was to give the enemy five minutes to set up, then move in. Rath’s goal for this training session was to practice working with different partners. Most of the time he was at Diana’s side or acting alone. Solo missions made sense, given his skills and ability to take care of himself by growing larger.

  He’d taken the relocation to the vimana and the fact they all pretty much lived their jobs now as an opportunity to improve himself. He missed being able to go out to restaurants together, missed the backyard picnics they’d shared. The current blending of work and life got a little dull sometimes, which he thought was why they’d been out on so many missions lately. Diana’s bored too. She’s just channeling it differently.

  Tony interrupted his musings by asking, “Want me to lead?”