by Alex Siegel
Nobody objected.
* * *
Marina yawned as her headquarters came into view. It was 2:30 AM, and there was still work to do. A long day kept getting longer, but everybody would need to sleep at some point. Total exhaustion could only lead to dangerous mistakes.
She was driving a black delivery van full of evidence. She parked it with the rear doors facing the entrance to headquarters. She and Atalanta stepped out into the cool, damp night air.
Hanley was driving the green Chevy with the rest of the crowd as passengers. He took the car into the big, white tent behind headquarters.
"It's funny," Atalanta said.
Marina perked up. She couldn't imagine anything being funny to the notoriously grim Japanese warrior.
"What?" Marina said.
"When I signed up to be Wesley's bodyguard, I thought it would be a boring job. I did it as a favor to Charles. He practically begged me, and I couldn't say no. Life with the Voice of Truth has turned out to be much more stimulating than I expected. You'd think fighting a night-time battle against SAS operatives would be noteworthy, but it isn't even the most interesting thing I've seen this week."
"Oh?"
"I shouldn't discuss Wesley's business, but I will say he's already rearranging the furniture in our nation's capital."
Hanley and the rest walked up. Everybody went around to the back of the moving van, and Marina opened the doors.
Bodies were stacked inside like logs, and blood had spread across the floor. Piles of equipment and weapons were placed to avoid the blood as much as possible.
"Let's get all the evidence into the entry room," Marina said. "It's well lit and safely separated from the rest of headquarters."
She grabbed as many rifles as she could carry and brought them inside. Yvonne was in the security booth, and Marina still wasn't used to the sight. Members of her own team were supposed to be guarding her headquarters.
"Is everybody OK?" Yvonne said.
"Yes," Marina said, "and we brought gifts."
She put down her load and went back outside. The gray bus was parked in the grass, and she walked over to inspect the damage. It didn't look like any bullets had penetrated, but there were dings all over, and the windows were chipped. Restoring the bus to its original condition would be expensive.
She returned to the van to help carry more stuff.
With everybody working together, it didn't take long to move all the evidence. Her pristine white entry was quickly transformed into a blood-spattered morgue. There were six corpses, and all of them had giant holes in their skulls.
Min Ho was staring at the mess with a mixture of disgust and dismay.
"Min Ho," Marina said, "go to your computer and do some research on the SAS. Figure out why they're here."
"Yes, ma'am." He left the entry room.
With so much evidence available, everybody had something to examine. Bodies were stripped, equipment was disassembled, and photographs were taken. It was all done with quiet, professional efficiency. Even Yang helped with the morbid task, and for Marina, it was another positive checkmark.
Not much was discovered though. None of the corpses had any identification, and even tattoos were uncommon. In general, the equipment could be purchased on the open market.
Only one item was unusual. It was a metal suitcase which contained a small satellite dish and attached controls. The dish could be deployed by simply pulling it out, and the whole package weighed about fifty pounds. An internal fire had gutted the electronics.
Min Ho returned to the room and said, "I figured out who they are, ma'am."
Everybody stopped working and looked at him.
"Who?" Marina said.
"Special Air Service Squadron H. They vanished about a week ago. They left their base without a word to anybody and haven't been seen since. The British government has been keeping it a secret, but behind closed doors, they've been scrambling to find the missing squadron. There are supposed to be 64 men total."
Marina looked at the corpses. The soldiers were in peak physical condition and certainly fit the Special Forces profile.
"I don't know how many were killed tonight, but I don't think it was quite 64. Take a look at this." She pointed at the suitcase with the satellite dish.
Min Ho crouched down in front of the suitcase. He fiddled with the buttons for a moment even though the controls were dead.
"It's a secure satellite uplink," he said. "I bet it was how the soldiers were talking to their boss. I'm guessing it could relay a signal straight to their headsets."
"We need to figure out who was at the other end of that connection," Marina said.
"That will be tough, ma'am. It looks like this thing self-destructed so we couldn't answer that question, and we don't even know which way the dish was pointing. There are a lot of satellites in orbit. Bouncing encrypted communication off of a secret satellite is a great way to avoid being traced. The Society shadow network uses satellites for the same reason."
"In other words, we're screwed." She kicked one of the bodies angrily. "It's time to sleep. We'll come at this fresh in the morning."
Charles nodded. "Agreed. Yvonne will take the rest of the night shift in the booth. Atalanta, Guthrum, and I will find places to sleep here so we can protect Wesley."
"Where is Wesley?" Marina turned to Ipo.
"Sleeping in your bed, ma'am," he said.
"Again? This is becoming a problem."
"It's big enough for two. Maybe you could just share it?"
She snarled. Given that there wasn't another bed in headquarters, she didn't have much choice. She couldn't tell the Voice of Truth to sleep on the floor. His protection team, on the other hand, could sleep on beds of nails for all she cared.
"I hope the kid doesn't snore," Marina said.
"He sleeps like an angel," Charles said, "of course."
* * *
A beeping alarm clock woke Marina. She slammed the button to turn it off, and then she turned on the lamp on her nightstand.
She rolled over and stared at Wesley. His perfect pink face looked like it had been carved by a master sculptor. His brown hair fell on the pillow just so.
You're going to break a lot of hearts when you grow up, she thought.
He opened his eyes. His blue irises sparkled like tiny gems and made her gasp.
"Good morning," he said.
"I'm curious," she said. "What do you dream about? Visions of the future?"
"I don't dream."
"Not at all?"
"Dreams are lies," he said, "and I can't imagine a lie. I just remember things when I'm asleep."
She frowned. "Sounds kind of boring."
"Not to me." He shrugged. "Have you figured out how to find the girl?"
"Not really. You can see the future. Tell me how I'm going to do it."
"It doesn't work that way."
"Of course not," she said. "That would be too helpful."
"Exactly." He nodded.
She gave him a funny look. "You don't know anything else about her?"
"Only that she's very important, and she's still alive."
"How do you know that?"
"Because if she were dead," he said, "the winds of destiny would blow me back to Washington."
She sighed with annoyance and got out of bed. She was wearing black pajamas, so she wasn't worried about him seeing her.
"Do I have a destiny?"
"Of course!" he said. "One of the best of all!"
She smiled a little. "What about Aaron?"
"He has the same destiny. You were always meant to be together."
"Then why are we apart now?"
"Because you need to learn how to stand on your own as a commander," Wesley said.
Marina couldn't deny the truth in that statement. Back in Chicago, she had lived in Aaron's shadow. Her time in San Francisco had given her a confidence and a mature perspective that she wouldn't have gained any other way.
"Ho
w long do I have to live without him?" Marina said.
"Not too much longer, but right now, worry about the girl. You have to save her."
She gave him a look. "You mean we all have to save her."
"No, I mean you have to save her."
"If you say so." She thought for a moment. "Instead of finding her, it might be easier to find the people trying to kill her. If we stop them, she'll be safe. I have an idea, but you need to get out of here first. I have to get dressed."
He got out of bed and left the room. He was just wearing blue and red underwear.
Marina used the bathroom, brushed her hair, and applied some light makeup to her face. She put on her formal gray robes and checked herself in a full-length mirror.
People insisted on calling her beautiful, but she saw plenty of flaws. Her red hair had split ends and needed to be trimmed. The freckles on her thick nose made her look like a little girl who had been punched in the face. Her jade colored eyes always held anger even when she felt happy, and her breasts were unimpressive. At least her legs were nice.
She left her bedroom.
The main room of headquarters was quiet. Yvonne was lying on the couch, asleep. Atalanta was sleeping on the cement floor in her clothes, and she didn't even have a pillow. Marina wondered if Atalanta's rock-hard skin allowed her to go without such comforts, or maybe she just wanted to look tough.
Marina didn't see Guthrum, Charles, or any member of her own team. Wesley was very quietly making breakfast for himself in the kitchen.
Marina turned on the television but left the sound muted and used the closed captioning instead. She flipped to a 24-hour news channel.
As expected, reporters were talking about the mess near Crystal Springs Reservoir. Live video from a helicopter showed the forest but not any bodies. An "expert" theorized the battle had been some kind of secret anti-terrorist campaign, except no dead terrorists had been found.
Marina's phone rang. She answered it quickly and moved away so Yvonne and Atalanta could sleep undisturbed.
"Hello?" she said softly.
"Is this Ms. Pointu?" a man with a deep voice said.
She belatedly checked the caller ID and recognized the number of Special Agent Joshua Harp. He was in charge of the San Francisco Division of the FBI."
"Yes," Marina said.
"Have you seen the news?"
"There was a massacre near Crystal Springs Reservoir."
"Exactly," Harp said. "A number of dead soldiers were found, and it turns out they were British Special Forces. The British government is denying all responsibility. I was wondering if you knew anything about it."
"Just what I saw on the news."
"Needless to say, this matter is receiving attention at the highest levels. If you could make a few inquiries..."
"I'm sorry," Marina said, "but I have other priorities right now. I wish I could help you, but I'm sure you'll be able to unravel the mystery without me. Actually, as long as I have you on the phone, there is a favor you can do for me. Did you hear about the little girl who was supposedly beaten and thrown into the trunk of a car?"
"How could I not hear about it? The story was all over the news yesterday."
"I need you to spread a rumor inside your department that she was found. Make it a poorly kept secret. I'll give you the specific details when I figure them out."
He paused. "Why would I do that?"
"It's for a good cause, but I can't explain why. Consider this payback for that embarrassing leak I plugged last month. Your department owes me."
"That's true. I'll do it."
"Great. Thanks. Bye." Marina hung up and called Min Ho.
"Ma'am?" the hacker answered in a sleepy voice.
"I need you back in the office."
"But I got home four hours ago."
"Sorry," she said, "but duty calls. I'll let you take a nap later."
"Yes, ma'am."
Marina put away her phone. She wanted to see who was in the security booth, so she walked over to a door on the east side of headquarters. The door was made of steel plate, and there was no handle on the outside. She knocked.
Charles opened the door from the other side. The old man looked a little older and more decrepit after a long night without much sleep. His suit was as spotless and wrinkle-free as ever though.
"Morning," he said. "Do you have a plan for today?"
He sat at the security console in the booth, and she stood beside him. The console included several surveillance monitors which could connect to any of seventy-five hidden cameras. There wasn't a square inch inside or around headquarters that couldn't be viewed even at night. A panel off to the side controlled the defensive weapons systems. Chain guns, automatic sniper rifles, land mines, and a rocket battery were available to repel threats. All the weapons were concealed or hidden underground, but they could pop up in an instant.
"I do," Marina said. "I'm going to float a false rumor that the girl was found, and the information will include a location. We'll see who shows up to kill her."
Charles nodded. "Good idea. Wesley and my team are staying here. His part in the mission is over. I refuse to allow a repeat of what happened last night."
"Of course. I owe you an apology for putting him in danger, but he did agree to it, and the night was productive."
He glowered.
She faced the console. "What do you think of my security?"
"Not bad for a temporary headquarters." He pointed to the monitors. "I'm curious about the software you're using. I've never seen anything like it."
A computer system was switching cameras automatically based on what was "interesting" according to its own criteria. Green boxes highlighted the portions of the images that the operator should look at.
"The twins wrote the software," Marina said. "Some kind of artificial intelligence, but it definitely works well. The system identifies intruders within a tenth of a second. The operator just has to sit and watch the show."
"I should've guessed the twins were responsible. We met them when we were in Chicago, and Wesley still mentions them frequently. According to him, they've been 'transformed,' but he wouldn't say how. The whole thing is a huge secret."
"On a related subject, Wesley told me something a little strange. The Gray Spear Society won't exist at some point."
Charles' eyes widened. "I hadn't heard that one, but he has been muttering about some kind of huge, devastating battle in the near future. It's all very tiresome. Sometimes, I wish...."
Marina sat on another chair in the booth. This was the first time she had ever had a private, frank conversation with him.
"What?"
"I've been with the boy for over a year," he said, "but it feels like a century. I'm exhausted. I'll be honest. When I switched to being his bodyguard, I was hoping the job would be less stressful than being a legate, but that hasn't been the case at all. Every day with the Voice of Truth is a new adventure, and I'm getting to the point where I'm not looking for more adventures. I've had far too many in my long life."
"I can't give you any good advice. It seems like you're stuck."
Charles sighed. "Yes."
Silence filled the booth. Marina sat with him for lack of anything better to do.
"Where's Guthrum?" she said.
"In the bus in case we need to flee on short notice."
"Oh."
Several minutes later, Min Ho walked in. He lived in Pacifica, and he was close enough that he didn't need to drive. He was wearing a black business vest over a dressy white shirt, but he didn't have a jacket. A red tie matched his red pants.
"He has an odd sense of fashion," Charles observed dryly.
"Quite so," Marina said, "but his work is outstanding."
There was still a huge, bloody mess in the entry room. Min Ho walked around it and reached the inner door. She pressed a button on the console to let him into the main part of headquarters. She ran out to meet him.
"What do you need, ma'am?" he
said in a tired voice. He had circles under his eyes.
"We're going to create a fake story about the girl being found. We need a believable location we can watch, and a real girl. She'll be bait for a trap."
"You're going to put an actual child in danger?"
"She and her family can be out of the country on vacation," Marina said, "but the story will be she's still at her house. It doesn't matter if the house is empty. The bad guys will still have to send somebody to check it out."
Min Ho nodded. "I understand, ma'am. I'll get right on it."
He walked over to his computer workstation.
Now we just need the rest of the team, she thought.
Chapter Seven
Vulture sipped his coffee as he walked into the command and control room. It was a new shift, and there were different console operators, but they wore the same red uniforms.
Vulture had brought a large contingent onto the Fearless Star. He had a command staff of 20, 10 technicians, 40 security guards, and 20 others. The last group consisted mostly of maids, cooks, and the like. In addition, the ship had a permanent crew of 40 seamen. There were a lot of people living onboard, but it was such a big ship, it didn't feel crowded.
As a security precaution, nobody was allowed to come or go without Vulture's explicit permission, and he didn't give it lightly. All communication was through secure satellites, and every cell phone was turned off. Routine sweeps with a signal detector made sure they stayed that way. The ship was floating in the San Francisco Bay, but the people onboard were as isolated as the crew of a nuclear submarine.
"Sir," one of the console operators said, "we have another lead on the girl. It's an address of a house in San Mateo, and the local police have already been dispatched."
"Where did this lead come from?" Vulture said.
"The FBI office in San Francisco gave the tip to the police, and we intercepted the communication."
Vulture pressed his lips together. He had come to San Francisco with sixteen SAS teams, and now he was down to four. That wasn't a lot, but they only had to eliminate one little girl. Still, it was probably a good idea to start bringing in additional assets in case the operation dragged on. He would have to think about the best way to do that. It was tough to find reliable killers who couldn't be traced back to him.
