Teller of Lies (Gray Spear Society Book 13)

by Alex Siegel

  "Can you prove the year is 1936?" Katie said.

  "The king told me," Sheila said.

  "He lied."

  Sheila appeared confused.

  Katie used the browser in her phone to search for information about the year 1936. "OK," she said, "tell me about your era. What big, historic events happened recently?"

  "Edward became King of England."

  "Aside from that."

  Sheila perked up. "There was a war."

  "Which war?"

  "World War II."

  "Close," Katie said. "That war started in 1938. Try again."

  "Electricity was invented."

  "Wrong century. I'll give you one more shot."

  "World War I," Sheila said hesitantly.

  Katie sighed. "You're just guessing."

  "But it's 1936. The king told me."

  Katie realized there was no way to break through the lie implanted in Sheila's mind. Only Wesley had the power to heal her, and he wasn't available.

  Katie could turn this situation to her advantage though. Clearly, the "king" was at the center of it all. She could set a trap for him using his slut as bait.

  She stepped out of the cabin and called Marina.

  "Yes?" the commander said.

  Katie summarized recent events. She concluded by saying, "But I'll need help with this trap."

  "This is a stroke of very good luck. Yang and I happen to be driving through San Francisco. We'll turn around and go back up to Sausalito. Can you secure the yacht and pick us up at the harbor?"

  "I think so, ma'am."

  "Good," Marina said. "The three of us will setup an ambush on the yacht and invite our enemy to come aboard. Ipo and Hanley will stay in Oakland and keep an eye on the SAS."

  "We're getting spread a little thin."

  "I know. I'll see you in a half-hour at the harbor. Bye."

  Katie put away her phone. She went back into the stateroom, found a closet, and opened it. Vintage clothes were packed tightly together.

  "What are you doing?" Sheila said.

  "Looking for belts or straps I can use to tie you up. I don't have any more handcuffs."

  Out of the corner of her eye, Katie saw Sheila edging towards the door.

  Katie drew a gun from a holster hidden under the towel around her waist. "Or, I can kill you. That works just as well. Lie down on your bed and get comfortable."

  Sheila complied with the order. Katie ended up tearing a nightgown into strips to get enough cloth to do the job. She secured Sheila to her bed in a spread-eagle position.

  "What if I have to use the lady's room?"

  "I don't know," Katie said. "I'll be back in an hour."

  She swept the rest of the yacht to make sure she hadn't missed anybody. She went back up to the main deck, and the only men awake were the ones she had handcuffed to the railing. They had recovered from the tear gas. She smiled at them, and they glared back at her.

  She climbed down to her powerboat. Three unconscious crewmen were lying in the boat, but her only option was to toss them overboard and watch them drown. She would let Marina make that call.

  Katie untied her boat and headed back to Sausalito.

  * * *

  Vulture was eating a late lunch on the top deck of the Fearless Star. It was a simple meal: boiled lobster, French onion soup, sautéed shiitake mushrooms, and hot rhubarb pie à la mode. The view from the top wasn't great due to some haze in the air, but he could see the tiny islands known as the Sisters in the distance.

  He wished he had friends to share his meal with. He kept a woman on a separate yacht, but she wasn't really his friend. She fell more into the category of a pleasant way to relieve tension. She couldn't stay on the Fearless Star because the dissonance between what she believed and what she saw might cause a mental breakdown. It was much less stressful when the environment reinforced the lie.

  Vulture also had his ever-present bodyguards, but they certainly weren't his friends. They were all highly accomplished killers, hand-picked from military and criminal organizations around the world. He controlled them with a sophisticated combination of money and blackmail. If anything happened to him, certain documents would be released to certain people. All his bodyguards had a strong, personal incentive to keep him alive and healthy.

  He checked his watch. I'd better get back to work, he thought. He patted his lips with a napkin, stood up, and walked down a flight of stairs.

  Eventually, he reached the command and control room. He was already growing weary of the rows of consoles with their many busy displays. The room was large, but the brown metal walls were closing in on him. He couldn't wait for this assignment to end.

  Vulture walked over to the operator in charge of asset management and said, "What happened to that SAS team we sent to grab Special Agent Harp? They should've reported by now."

  The operator typed on his keyboard for a moment. "There hasn't been any communication, sir."

  "Contact them. Get a status update."

  The operator spoke into his headset while he typed. The conversation dragged on longer than Vulture liked.

  "Well?"

  "They're not responding, sir," the operator said.

  "The whole team?"

  "Yes, sir."

  Vulture clenched his jaw. He assumed the Gray Spear Society had somehow saved the FBI agent and had killed the team. It was a frustrating, disturbing development, and he needed to think about what it meant.

  Vulture had another critical problem. He was rapidly running out of SAS operatives. He couldn't use his personal bodyguards for the mission because they knew too much. If they were captured and interrogated by the Society, all would be lost. He needed a fresh batch of dependable, disposable thugs who knew nothing of value. The only immediate solution involved making a call he had hoped to avoid.

  He left the control room, climbed a flight of stairs, and emerged onto the main deck. He stood on the bow and waved for his bodyguards to stay back. This conversation wasn't for their ears.

  Vulture took a red device out of a secret pocket. It looked like a primitive walky-talky, but it was actually an extremely sophisticated piece of technology known as the Red Eye Communication System. He put his eye near a tiny retinal scanner, and the connection was made a few seconds later.

  "What do you want?" Erika answered in a breathless voice.

  "Are you exercising?" Vulture said.

  "I'm having sex."

  "Oh." He tried to banish the image from his mind. "I need a favor."

  "Those come with a price tag."

  "Of course. I need more operatives. My supply is running low. The Society is whacking them at a pretty good clip."

  "Already?" Erika said. "This is only the second day."

  "It appears the Great Adversary engaged the Society right at the start. There was nothing I could do to prevent it, and now, I have a problem."

  "I'll ask around and see who has resources they can spare. You'll have to negotiate your own terms of payment, and I'll expect a finder's fee."

  Vulture gritted his teeth. By asking for help, he had exposed himself to the ravenous greed of the other Pythagoreans. They would exploit his moment of weakness to the utmost.

  "Just do it quickly. I'll need reinforcements by tomorrow at the latest. Tonight would be better."

  "I'll do my best," the Queen of the Pythagoreans said. "Bye."

  He put the red phone back in its secret pocket. The reward had better be worth it, he thought.

  * * *

  Marina liked Sausalito. It was a cute little town that straddled the border between the urban sprawl of the Bay Area and the funky, semi-rural culture further north. The main part of town was built on the shoreline of Richardson Bay. It consisted of small stores, professional offices, and services for boats. No building was taller than two stories, and there were no major shopping centers. The rest was a residential neighborhood built on the hills between Interstate 101 and the water. Curving roads were forced to follow
the steep topography. Sausalito was a place where one sipped overpriced coffee beverages while staring at the water and thinking deep thoughts.

  Yang parked the green SUV in a lot by the Bay. He and Marina stepped out into warm, humid air. The weather in this area never reached extreme temperatures, but it still varied greatly depending on which way the wind was blowing.

  They walked to the shore. A forest of piers and docks extended from two miles of shoreline, providing thousands of berths of all sizes. The calm waters and temperate weather were ideal for boating, and a small fleet was always out on the Bay.

  Marina spotted a brown and yellow powerboat cruising across the water. It had twin outboard motors which could probably put out a lot of horsepower. Katie was at the wheel, waving her arm.

  "There." Marina pointed.

  Katie drove over to an unused berth. No doubt it was owned by somebody, but they would only need it for a few seconds. Marina and Yang walked quickly along the wooden dock to meet Katie.

  Marina's phone rang. The caller ID showed Min Ho's code number.

  She answered, "Yes?"

  "We just intercepted a police tip, ma'am," the hacker said. "A girl with the right description was seen screaming for help in a house. The location is the Sunset District in San Francisco. The police are already on their way."

  Marina's phone beeped. Another call was coming in from Hanley.

  "Hold on." She switched over to Hanley. "What?"

  "I just overheard radio communication, ma'am," he said. "An SAS team is being dispatched to San Francisco. The enemy might've found the girl."

  Marina imagined a map of the Bay Area in her mind. The SAS team was coming from Oakland. She and Yang could get to the Sunset District first if they hurried, but there was a good chance the trip would be a waste of time like all the others so far. Katie's plan to use the yacht as a trap was a much surer bet, and Marina couldn't afford to waste the opportunity.

  "OK," she said. "Tell Ipo to slow down the SAS team without being obvious about it. I don't want them to know we're right on top of them. I'll send Yang to San Francisco."

  Yang raised his eyebrows in surprise.

  "Just Yang?" Hanley said. "A raw recruit by himself?"

  "I have to work with Katie. It would be nice if I had ten more legionnaires, but I don't think that's going to happen. Bye." Marina flipped back to Min Ho. "Text the address to Yang's phone. He's going alone."

  "But..." Min Ho said.

  "You heard me." She ended the call and put away her phone.

  "I'm going to San Francisco, ma'am?" Yang said.

  Marina nodded. "Take the car, and hurry. If this girl is the one, kidnap her. Get her out of there. Use any means necessary to make sure she's safe."

  "How will I know?"

  "According to Wesley, it will be obvious. Go!"

  Yang ran off.

  Marina shook her head and sighed. She was placing a lot of faith in a legionnaire that had received minimal orientation and no official training. Wesley had chosen him, and that counted for a lot, but she was still very uneasy.

  Marina ran over to the berth where Katie had parked her boat.

  "Where did Yang go?" Katie said.

  "To check out a girl." Marina climbed into the boat. "Move."

  Katie reversed the engines and backed out of the berth.

  Three bodies were lying on the bottom of the boat. Their white shirts and blue pants were clearly part of a naval uniform. Marina checked the pulse of one man and found he was still alive.

  "Who are they?"

  "Crewmen from the yacht, ma'am," Katie said. "I used the foam."

  "Oh. We have to dump them in the middle of the Bay."

  "But they'll drown."

  "Anybody who works for an enemy of God," Marina said, "even indirectly, must die. The yacht received a delivery from the same truck that visited the SAS. That woman's mind was corrupted the same way as the news witnesses and the man I interrogated on the beach. The evidence is conclusive."

  "Yes, ma'am." Katie frowned.

  "We're in an ugly business. Get used to it."

  "But I was so proud of myself for taking control of the yacht without killing anybody."

  "And that was a nice accomplishment," Marina said, "but in this case, it was wasted."

  Katie furrowed her brow as she drove the boat out of the marina.

  * * *

  Ipo saw the black Humvee up ahead in the left turn lane. It was stopped at a large intersection, waiting for a green light. Ipo was behind a line of traffic in his own car.

  A corner gas station offered a way around. He turned into the gas station parking lot, went through, and stopped at the exit. The light changed to green, and the Humvee turned left in front of him. He abruptly accelerated forward. The Humvee swerved, but he still managed to clip a front panel, wedge both vehicles together, and force the Humvee to screech to a stop.

  Ipo jumped out of his car. "Sorry, man! I wasn't looking." He checked the damage to the Humvee. "Ooh! Don't worry. I got good insurance."

  Four soldiers were inside the Humvee. They were wearing fatigues and body armor, but Ipo couldn't see any weapons from his angle.

  The driver rolled down his window. "Forget it," he said in a British accent. "Just move that piece of shit out of the way. We have to go."

  He pointed at the green Chevy Ipo had driven. It was the vehicle he had purchased from the car thief.

  "That's not a piece of shit," Ipo said. "It's fine American craftsmanship."

  "Move it!"

  "We need to trade paperwork so I can file an insurance claim, and I can't just leave. That would be against the law."

  Cars were stacking up behind the accident, and Ipo was starting to hear a chorus of car horns. The intersection was completely blocked by the snarl.

  He walked over to the Humvee and looked through the open window. The soldiers had pistols in holsters.

  Ipo backed up abruptly. "They got guns!" he yelled. "They got guns!"

  He quickly got back in his Chevy and stomped on the gas, but he only managed to entangle his car with the Humvee even worse than before. He heard the satisfying sound of crunching metal.

  Ipo got out of his car and ran off as if terrified. He went behind a brown, stucco building. Smiling, he peeked out at the mess he had made.

  The Humvee was backing up and trying to find room to escape. Stopped traffic in the rear made that task difficult. Finally, it tore itself free of the Chevy and roared off.

  A police car was coming from the other direction. It immediately made a U-turn and pursued the Humvee.

  That should slow them down, Ipo thought.

  * * *

  Katie drove the powerboat around Belvedere Island and the Tiburon Peninsula. She proceeded into a wide part of the Bay where it was hard to see the shore. The air was a little cooler on the open water, but Marina was still enjoying the perfectly pleasant day.

  A wooden sailing yacht came into view, and it was a gorgeous piece of naval architecture. The long, clean lines promised speed and excitement. Polished brass fittings and rails gleamed in the sunlight. The main deck was almost free of clutter, and the mast shot straight into the sky. The name painted on the side was "Lover's Roost."

  "Let's get rid of this dead weight," Marina said.

  She and Katie heaved three bodies overboard. They floated just below the surface, face down, and Marina saw a few bubbles escape. As soon as water filled their lungs, they would sink and become fish food.

  Katie parked the powerboat next to the yacht. Ropes were already hanging down, and she tied them to the boat. The two women climbed a ladder to reach the main deck.

  Marina visually surveyed the situation. Several more bodies were lying on the deck, and they still had some dried foam on their faces. Two crewmen were handcuffed to a thick brass railing. One had blood on his wrists from trying to pull his hands free.

  "This is nice work," Marina said.

  "Thank you, ma'am," Katie said.


  "Now let's clean up."

  They tossed all the unconscious men into the Bay while the two survivors watched anxiously.

  "What are you going to do with us?" a crewman with two stripes on his epaulets said.

  Marina smiled at him. "We'll have a nice conversation, but first, I need to talk to the delusional girl."

  Katie led Marina through the lower deck. They passed another crewman, and Marina used her venom to make sure he never woke up.

  "I expect we'll burn this yacht when we're done with it," Marina said.

  "That's a shame," Katie said. "It's beautiful."

  "We must scrub the stain clean."

  They entered a large stateroom, and it was like walking into a museum. All the furnishings appeared to be real Art Deco antiques. A couch with high, rounded arms was covered with silver vinyl. The headboard on the bed had a starburst pattern made from inlaid wood. Even the mirror on the makeup table was cut to look like the top of the Empire State Building.

  "Wow," Marina said. "Talk about attention to detail."

  A young woman was tied to the bed. Her clothes and hair style were as vintage as the rest of the room.

  "That's Sheila," Katie said.

  "Glad to meet you." Marina walked over to Sheila. "What year is it?"

  "1936," Sheila replied immediately.

  "Are you sure?"

  "Yes."

  "Why?" Marina said. "What evidence do you have?"

  "The king told me."

  "Describe your life before you met the king."

  Sheila frowned. "I was an actress in..." She shook her head.

  "Where?"

  "Los Angeles. No, wait, that can't be right. I lived in England... I think. That's where I met the king. And then we were on this yacht. But how did I get here?" Sheila looked at Marina with an expression of panic. "What's wrong with me? Why can't I remember?"

  "The year is 2014, the location is the San Francisco Bay, and your king is not a king at all. He's actually an evil motherfucker who brainwashed you using some kind of dark gift."

  "No," Sheila said. "It's 1936. That can't be wrong."

  Marina sighed. "That lie is stuck pretty deep, isn't it? Unfortunately, I can't do much about it now. Let's talk about the king instead. Can you describe him?"

  "He has brown hair, and he's very handsome. His beard and mustache are always perfectly trimmed. He's tall. His voice is amazing. I could listen to it all day."