Mr. Warrior dropped to his knees.
Chapling and I exchanged an impressed glance. Bruiser would be so proud.
Without making an arrogant show, Mystic simply reached down, reset Mr. Warrior’s meridian point, and helped him up. A little disoriented, the Warrior shook his head to regain his equilibrium, then stood for a second just staring at Mystic.
Mystic stared back and I knew, once again, he was searching for Zandra clues. With a respectful nod, Mystic reached his hand out, and the Warrior took it. They exchanged manly compliments and left the octagon side-by-side, slapping each other on the back.
Leave it to Mystic to make friends with a giant.
I glanced over to see if Harry Noor showed any sides of being impressed. With slightly narrowed eyes, he watched Mystic’s every move as he walked beside the Warrior. That had to be a good sign. So far he hadn’t watched any fighter that closely.
The rest of the fighters standing in line went. A couple did really well and most held their own up against the Warriors. Only one got knocked out. So far, hands down, Mystic had done the best.
Finally, it was the last person’s turn—David. I glanced at the octagon to see which Warrior he’d be up against and found the high-pitched guy standing there waiting. It was weird, I know, but I kinda liked Mr. high-pitch guy. He’d been so gentlemanly to me and Chapling.
My gaze traveled down his body to his ankles and the supportive, half-sock he wore on each one. I studied each ankle, noticing the right one looked a bit thicker, and then I saw a hint of an ace bandage peeking out the top.
David strode down the line right past Mystic. Completely in role, he and Mystic showed no signs of recognition to each other.
I stepped forward. “Excuse me; I need to check your Skins.” Pointing to my laptop, I turned to Harry Noor. “According to the Combat Thrash Program,” I lied, “one has come unattached.”
Harry nodded for David to approach me.
I smoothed my finger across a Skin attached to his stomach, leaning close to inspect it. Beside me, Chapling faked being busy with the laptop.
“Right ankle,” I whispered, not moving my lips.
“Oh, goodgood,” Chapling mumbled.
David barely nodded his understanding.
I stepped back. “All good.”
Harry motioned for David to continue on, and he stepped up onto the octagon. Harry blew his whistle, and lightening quick, David dropped to the matt and swept his foot right into Mr. high-pitch’s bad ankle.
A snap echoed through the gym, and I watched wide-eyed as Mr. high-pitch fell to the matt, grabbing his ankle. He didn’t make a sound, but the agony on his face told me something bad had happened.
I glanced at David, wanting to tell him he didn’t have to go and break the guy’s ankle. But, I reminded myself, it would be a lot worse than this during the actual competition. Mystic and David both would not only inflict some major pain, but take it themselves. Neither one of them would walk out of this mission unscathed.
And, I reminded myself, these fighters came here expecting this. They were kidding themselves if they thought this would be a friendly encounter.
“Was that a bone?” Chapling asked, looking a little sick.
I shook my head. “I think it was a tendon or ligament or something.” Since joining the Specialists, I’d heard bones break, and that was most definitely not a bone.
A couple of the Warriors stepped up onto the octagon to help Mr. High-Pitch down. He couldn’t walk. David had seriously injured him.
“Let’s move on,” Harry instructed, clearly feeling no concern for his injured Warrior.
While Chapling went down the line of fighters taking their Influence Sway Skins off, I dove into the Combat Thrash Program, checking and double checking that David and Mystic were set to go.
Harry came over to me. “I’d like to see holograms first.”
“Which titled fighter would you like to see these prospective Warriors go up against?” I smiled a little. “I have Utotiz’s data,” I proudly said, referring to the world MMA title holder.
Harry Noor’s brows lifted. “Utotiz?” He turned his back to everyone so only I could see his face. “He happens to be a guest fighter in tomorrow’s fights,” he whispered.
I held my smile in check, when what I really wanted to do was freak out. “Utotiz?” Holy crap. David and Mystic would be going up against the world title holder?
Harry looked a bit smug. “The purse is ten million dollars. Most ever. Why do you think I hired you? One of my Warriors must win that fight.” He stepped to the side. “Now let’s see holograms.”
I glanced across the room to TL, but he didn’t return my glance.
“Gertrude?” Harry prompted me.
“Sorry.” I gave my program the go ahead, and in the center of the octagon appeared an image of Utotiz.
My God he looked mean.
While everyone watched, the hologram of Utotiz went up against each fighter in quick thirty second rounds. Just long enough to show Harry how each prospective Warrior would do. Of course, my program showed real data on everyone but Mystic and David. Some of the fighters did horrible, some okay. Mystic and David definitely held their own.
When all holograms were complete, Harry turned to me. “Now let’s see percentage of excellence.”
I did some click, click, clicks, and a list appeared on my screen. Beside each fighter’s name was a percentage. David and Mystic were 99.9.
Harry studied the list, before turning to the line of fighters. “I’m going to call six names. If your name is not called, you and your trainer are to leave immediately. If your name is called, you are to be here tomorrow night promptly at six p.m.”
With the fights being tomorrow night, we checked into a hotel. After we dropped our things, we met in TL and Mystic’s room. Bruiser and Nalani had already checked into the hotel and were sitting on one of the beds waiting. I noticed TL seemed even more tense than usual.
With a slight smile to everybody, Chapling and I busied ourselves setting up our laptops with a LCD projector that turned our screens into a large image for everyone. Right as we finished, Mystic and Jonathan came in.
“The kidnappers have made contact,” TL announced as soon as everyone was seated. “Not more than ten minutes ago.”
No one said a word.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Nalani whispered.
With a pained look, TL shook his head and handed Chapling his phone. “It’s on there. Project it up for everybody.”
Chapling connected TL’s phone to our laptop, and few seconds later an image flickered into view up on the wall. I stared at the long brown object, trying to figure out what it was and then realized . . . “Oh my God.”
A long, curly lock of Zandra’s hair had been placed around a note different than the others. SHE MIGHT ALREADY BE DEAD.
“Nooo,” Nalani moaned, putting her hands over her face.
TL sat down beside her and pulled her into his arms. I watched as they clung to each other, neither one looking at the image on the wall. I was so relieved to finally see them pull together, to comfort each other, instead of pushing the other away.
David motioned for Chapling to cut the picture. “Get a trace on that,” he said, and Chapling got down to work.
“Okay,” David said, nodding to me. “Bring up the club’s layout.”
I clicked a few keys, and a diagram of the fight club popped up, complete with the octagon and all.
“All this is new.” Using a laser pointer, David circled the locker room area. “As you can see from the dozens of small rooms, the fighters are kept completely separate until they actually walk onto the octagon. To reiterate, it is imperative for Mystic to make it to the end. That is the only way he will be able to interact with as many fighters as possible and see what he needs to see regarding Zandra.”
David highlighted two stairwells before drawing our attention to the one Chapling and I had used. “This one is where the patrons
enter and exit.” He highlighted the other one. “This entrance is located inside the locker room area and is used by the fighters and their trainers. From the outside of the mansion, this would be a side entrance.”
I glanced over to Nalani and TL to see them still hugging, yet giving David their undivided attention.
“And this is used by Harry Noor.” David put an X over an elevator. “It drops him in a private room in the locker area. All three entrances are highly guarded. Once Mystic knows where we’re going next, TL will make contact with officials on the outside. They will be ready to raid and bring Demise Chain down.”
“Mystic,” David went on, “had an opportunity to interact with a couple different fighters. Unfortunately, he did not secure the next clue to Zandra’s whereabouts.”
David continued speaking, debriefing Nalani and Bruiser on the events of the day, how the tryouts went, and other miscellaneous things.
When he was finished, I raised my hand. “Harry gave us a list of all the fighters that will be there tomorrow night. We uploaded the list and have been compiling data.” I clicked a few keys. “Let’s see competitors and stats.”
Numerous video boxes popped up on the screen, showing individual footage of tomorrow’s competitors including the visiting fighters and the Warriors. A list of their stats appeared beside each video box: height, weight, reach, age. And in the middle of them all towered Utotiz.
“We’ll be merging this information with our Combat Thrash Program,” I told the group. “We’ll have a best guess of what that fighter is going to do before he does it.”
“Great.” David glanced around the room. “Questions?”
Everyone shook their heads.
David turned to Chapling. “Anything yet?”
Staring at the screen, Chapling shook his head. “Whoever the kidnappers are, they’ve got computer knowledge. I can’t trace the origin of the picture. It’s set to relay through hundreds of internet protocol addresses. By the time I trace it to one, its programmed to echo to another.”
I let out a frustrated breath and heard someone do the same.
“Okay,” David redirected us a few seconds later. “Let’s review this fighting footage. These are the people we’re going up against tomorrow. We need to be as familiar with them as possible.” With that, David nodded to me to bring up the first fighter.
***
The next afternoon Chapling and I arrived back at Harry Noor’s mansion. To my surprise the huge, high-pitched guy met us as our taxi pulled in.
Supported by crutches with his ankle in a cast, he opened the door for us. “Welcome.”
“How are you?” I asked as I climbed out.
Smiling, he nodded. “I’ll survive.”
I couldn’t imagine him doing anything mean to anybody. I couldn’t imagine him as a ‘bad guy’. But then I’d encountered quite a few ‘nice’ people since joining the Specialists that had turned out to be bad.
Minutes later, we entered the fight club area. And throughout the next few hours a couple of workers showed up. One guy began sweeping the dingy floor and another walked around the octagon, squirting stains, unsuccessfully wiping them up. A third guy busied himself setting up more metal chairs. I found myself wondering, and more than curious, how this whole night would play out.
And what if Mystic never did secure our next clue?
My God, what then?
At some point Harry emerged from the locker room area and came straight to me and Chapling. “Here,” he said, handing us small boxes.
Chapling and I opened them.
“An earpiece?” Chapling asked.
“To communicate with the Warriors during their fights,” Harry responded.
Chapling looked at the earpiece. “But . . . that’s illegal. That’s cheating.”
Harry didn’t respond to that, and instead inched closer. “Why do you think I hired you, you idiot? I want you telling my fighters what to do and what not to do. That Combat Thrash Program better come through for me tonight. There’s ten million dollars at stake.”
He inched closer, purposefully intimidating Chapling. “Let’s put it this way. You make me happy. I make you happy. I profit. You profit. Got it?”
Chapling swallowed. “Got it.”
Harry turned his glare on me.
I put my earpiece in. “Got it.”
Jerk. I wanted to tell him these bulky devices were so last year.
“I’ve already met with the Warriors,” Harry informed us, “and they know to listen to whatever you tell them.”
He’d met with the Warriors? That meant David was here. And Mystic, and the rest of my team. Just that thought made my insides do a little happy dance.
Harry tapped his ear. “I’ll be listening, too.” He pointed across the club where a table had been set up with cameras and other computers. “I want you over there. No one is to know what you’re doing. If they ask, you’re filming the fights.” With that, he walked away.
Chapling looked up at me. “I don’t like him,” he whispered.
“Me neither,” I whispered back.
Across the club, the door we’d come through opened, and a woman stepped through.
Wearing fish net stockings, a tight mini jean skirt, and revealing silver tank top, the blond haired woman sashayed through the door. She had a snake tattooed on her right arm and a motorcycle on her left. In red high heels and matching nail polish and lipstick, she swung her kinky hair out of the way.
White trash popped into my mind first as she popped her gum and looked around the place.
“Oh, she looks too great,” Chapling commented.
“Who? Her?” He needed his eyes checked. This woman definitely did not look great. Cheap, sure, but great? Not so much.
“Her and TL both did a great job with their disguises.”
“That’s Nalani?”
Chapling looked up at me. “You didn’t know?”
I shook my head and glanced back across the club to where she stood. Oh my God, she definitely was unrecognizable.
Harry caught sight of Nalani then and waved her over. They’d met, of course, when she’d been hired on as the hostess. With her rough-around-the-edges look, she fit right in with this underground, seedy place. She was the perfect woman to greet people later on when they showed up.
Chomping her gum, Nalani strolled across the club straight toward Harry Noor. From my distance I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but they exchanged handshakes.
A few more words and Harry disappeared back into the locker room area. Probably to threaten and verbally bash his fighters.
Nalani spun on her heel toward us and crossed the distance between us. Completely in role, she held her hand out to us. “I hear you guys are the computer nerds.” She pumped each of our hands. “I’m Nan, the new hostess.”
Blowing a bubble, she rubbed her ear lobe between her thumb and forefinger indicating it was time for us to activate everyone’s earpieces for communication. Each of us already wore the transceivers, which were tiny moles on the inside of our ears. Dr. Gretchen had implanted them yesterday before we left the ranch to board our planes.
Through wireless connection, they communicated with a microphone embedded in our back molars. And as a backup, a microphone had also been injected into the lymphoid tissue between the mouth and the pharynx (Dr. Gretchen’s terminology).
At the last second, Dr. Gretchen had advised two transceivers and two microphones because of the nature of the mission. With fighting, there was no telling what would get knocked out or disabled.
Everyone had agreed. Hence a transceiver in both ears, and a microphone in a molar and a tonsil.
As Nalani headed away, Chapling squatted down in front of his laptop sitting on the floor and programmed our team to begin transmission. Looking over his shoulder, I saw that he also hacked into Harry’s frequency, assuring his ear pieces would not cross with ours.
“Brilliant,” I mumbled.
“Thanks, smartgirl
.” He did a few more clicks. “It looks like the Warriors are wearing receivers. They can listen, but they can’t speak to each other. Harry’s voice and our voices are the only ones they can hear.” Click, click, click. “I’ll create a toggle feature to mute our voices when we want to talk without Harry listening.”
“Charlie, check,” Chapling began routine assurance all technology was working.
“Gertrude, check,” I parroted.
“Nan, check.”
“Tim, check.”
“Jones, check.”
“Bee Bee, check.”
“Michael, check.”
“Daniel, check,” David finished, and I couldn’t help but feel reassured at hearing his voice.
Chapling and I grabbed our things and headed over to the table Harry had designated us to be at.
Through my ear mole, I heard a door open.
“Michael,” Harry Noor grunted. “Do you have your earpiece in?”
“Yes I do,” Mystic answered.
“You will stay in this room until someone comes to get you. You will not leave until then. And let me remind you, you will listen to the advice my computer specialist gives you. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” Mystic responded. “I understand.”
Then there was a pause, and I listened hard, trying to figure out what was going on.
“I watched you closely,” Harry finally continued, “in the tryouts. And I can say I’m duly impressed. Michael, I do believe you’re going to win me ten million dollars.”
Okay, that was good. Harry needed to be impressed with Mystic.
“I will,” Mystic confirmed.
“And you,” Harry spoke, “you are not to give Michael advice unless I tell you. After tonight, I doubt I’ll need any of the trainers. That Combat Thrash Program is going to take us to the top.”
TL didn’t verbally respond, but I imagined he was nodding or something.
“Now, who is this?” Harry asked all gentlemanly.
“This is my girlfriend, my good luck charm, Bee Bee.”
“Hi,” Bruiser greeted Harry in that fake sweet voice she did so well. “It’s so very, very nice to meet you.”
“Likewise,” Harry returned the greeting. “Come with me, dear, and I’ll escort you out.”
Fight to the Finish Page 13
