Teller of Lies (Gray Spear Society Book 13)

by Alex Siegel

  "Yes, sir," Davis said. "Where will you be?"

  "In my quarters until this matter is resolved. I want six guards at my door. Everybody else will search the ship from bow to stern. Get the entire staff and crew involved. We need to be absolutely certain that woman ended up at the bottom of the Pacific instead of on this ship. Each search party must include at least two fully-armed, professional soldiers."

  "Is she really that dangerous, sir? We're talking about just one woman."

  Vulture gave his bodyguard a serious look. "If I'm right about her, this ship may soon have more ghosts than the Flying Dutchman. Move!"

  * * *

  Hanley, Yang, Katie, the legate, and Boreas entered headquarters. It had been a quiet drive home. The legate had glowered the entire time, and nobody else had dared to speak.

  Yvonne was manning the security booth. She was wearing a very feminine, pink dress which looked entirely inappropriate for her absurdly muscular body. Hanley could only catch glimpses of the beautiful woman hiding underneath all those bulges.

  She obviously sensed the legate's foul mood because Yvonne immediately pushed the button to let them through. Hanley ran to hold the door for the others.

  Wesley, his protection team, Olivia, and the other members of the San Francisco team had gathered in the kitchen area. The little girl was the center of attention. She had a big ice cream sundae in front of her, as if it were her birthday. The group was obviously trying to make her feel welcome. Wesley was sitting close to his future wife with a huge grin on his face. His affection for her seemed inappropriate in one so young.

  "The party is over!" the legate bellowed.

  All the members of the San Francisco team snapped to attention. Wesley and his team ignored her.

  "Does anybody have the faintest idea where we might find Marina?" the legate said.

  Surprisingly, Olivia was the first to respond. "They were taking me to a boat when Marina rescued me. It was in the northern part of the Bay."

  The legate turned to Jia, and the hacker peeped in fright.

  "You've been investigating boats."

  "Yes, ma'am," Jia said. "I think I may have found the right one. I sorted the list of possibilities and ran the features through a classification algorithm..."

  "Just tell me the name."

  "The Fearless Star, ma'am. It's more than big enough to serve as a base for a major operation. A recent pattern of activity suggests secret renovations were performed. Money was certainly laundered. The ship has been floating in the middle of San Pablo Bay with a full crew for two weeks."

  "I've heard of that ship," Hanley said. "Peter Zane owns it."

  The legate furrowed her brow. "Zane as in Zanesoft?"

  "Yes, ma'am. He lives in the Bay Area. He has his own palace in the mountains."

  "Where is the ship?"

  "That's the problem, ma'am," Jia said. "It's missing. I have a satellite photo showing it in the Bay yesterday, but then it moved, and I don't know where it went. The interesting part is Zane is still home."

  "Then let's go question him. Maybe he can tell us where his ship is."

  "He's notoriously eccentric and reclusive," Hanley said.

  "He'll talk to me." The look in the legate's unnatural eyes left no doubt.

  "I want to come," Olivia said. "Marina saved my life, and I want to help save hers."

  The legate turned to her. "You're just a little girl. What can you do to help?"

  "I can make people want to cooperate or feel other things."

  "Marina mentioned that. Show me. Make me afraid."

  Olivia slid off her chair and walked over to the legate.

  "Let me touch your head, please," Olivia said in a sweet voice.

  The legate knelt down. The girl touched her head, and the reaction took only a second. The legate stumbled backwards with wide eyes and almost fell over. She made a choking noise.

  Boreas looked at her with deep concern. "Are you OK, ma'am?"

  The legate opened her mouth, but she had trouble forming words. Her whole body was shaking. Hanley realized she was absolutely terrified, an emotion he never expected to see on her.

  She took a few breaths and gradually settled down. Tears dotted her cheeks.

  "I'm OK," she said in an uneven voice. "She hits a lot harder than I expected."

  Hanley noticed Wesley smiling with pride. You have quite a girlfriend, Hanley thought.

  "Obviously, you can be useful," the legate said to Olivia, "but it's up to Wesley. Is it safe for her to come?"

  "Yes," Wesley said, "but all the San Francisco legionnaires have to go with you as protection."

  "Then let's change into clothes more appropriate for a meeting with a billionaire. I want to be out of here in ten minutes. Move!"

  * * *

  Marina was focused, alert, and ready for battle. A fine night of killing lay ahead of her, and she could hardly wait for it to begin. She had a knife in each hand.

  She heard footsteps in the corridor outside the room. Doors were being opened and closed systematically, and the enemy wasn't being particularly quiet about it. Fools, she thought. This situation was a good example of why she taught her legionnaires to always be silent even when it didn't seem necessary.

  Marina crouched to the side of the door. It abruptly banged open, and she caught it with her foot just before it hit her face. The lights in the room came on, dazzling her momentarily. She waited a second for her vision to clear.

  It sounded like there were two men in the room. When one of them looked around the door, she swept past him, slashing his throat along the way. His buddy wasn't even looking at her when she stabbed his carotid artery, producing a pulsing spray of blood.

  Three more people were waiting in the hallway with surprised expressions. One wore a red uniform, and the other two had white uniforms. She pulled a pistol from the holster of one of the men whose throat she had cut. She used his body as a shield as she shot the last three adversaries in the face. They tried to return fire, but they only hit their own man. The entire engagement lasted three seconds.

  Unfortunately, the exchange had made a lot of noise, and it wouldn't be long before the enemy arrived in force. Marina put her knives in sleeves strapped to her ankles. She tried to take the body armor off of one man, but the corpse was heavy, and she didn't have time to pull the armor loose. She settled for grabbing two Beretta ARX 160 rifles. They were made in Italy, and their compact design was ideal for killing in close quarters. She also buckled on a gun belt with two .45 caliber pistols in holsters. A good beginning, she thought.

  She glanced both ways down the corridor to make sure it was clear, and then she started running. Her next goal was a radio or any kind of communications system. She needed to make contact with her team. If necessary, she would kill everybody on the ship by herself, but she preferred to have friends around.

  The radio would be on the bridge, but going up to the top deck the obvious way was asking for trouble. She headed towards the bow.

  The sound of approaching footsteps made her duck into a closet full of cleaning supplies. She heard men running past the door. When it was quiet again, she resumed her silent run.

  Marina found a service stairway at the front of the ship. She climbed quickly and emerged through a hatch onto the main deck. The darkness of night came as a relief. There were far too many lights on the ship for her taste.

  The assault rifles had straps, and she hung them over her neck so her hands would be free. With a running jump, she grabbed the edge of the second deck and pulled herself up. There were no guards in sight. Perhaps all of them had gone below in response to the gunfire.

  She climbed straight up to the third deck. The bridge was enclosed in windows, and she ducked to avoid being seen. She glimpsed five crewmen including one with captain's stripes. Four men in black body armor were also standing guard. The former had pistols in holsters, and the latter were carrying assault rifles.

  Marina didn't see any way to kill her
enemies quietly. There were too many, and they were too well armed. She just had to make noise and move very fast.

  She made sure both her assault rifles were ready to fire. She held one in each hand and braced the butts against her shoulders. Firing two guns at once wasn't something she practiced a lot, but at such close range, it was hard to miss. Aaron was much better at it.

  Marina stood up and fired through the window into the bridge. She killed the guards first, aiming for their unprotected heads. She swept across towards the crew and ran out of bullets just as she finished the job. She dropped the guns.

  She ran around to the door and burst into the bridge. Her mental clock was ticking.

  She spotted the ship's radio right away, but the little display just had the word "LOCKED" on it. She fiddled with the controls but nothing did any good. It seemed she needed to type a passcode on a keypad. The only other microphone was connected to the ship's public address system. She gritted her teeth with frustration. Somewhere on the ship, there had to be a way to make contact with the outside world.

  Marina checked the bodies, but the men weren't carrying cell phones. She did find small, hand-held radios on the guards, but they clearly had limited range. She grabbed one anyway.

  She was running out of time. She was about to leave when a navigation system caught her eye. An electronic map showed the current position of the ship, and it was well out in the Pacific, due west of San Francisco.

  She heard approaching footsteps. She grabbed a rifle from one of the bodies, slung it over her shoulder, and climbed a ladder. It took her up to a small deck where the radars and antennas were located. She closed the hatch an instant before the enemy burst into the bridge.

  It wouldn't be long before they came up to look for her. After making sure the way was clear, she slipped off the roof of the bridge and landed silently on the deck below. She hustled away into the darkness.

  * * *

  A knock on the door startled Vulture. He was in his quarters with Sheila. He was holding her in his arms, and the physical contact brought him comfort even though their relationship was based on lies.

  "What?" he yelled.

  "Trouble, sir," a familiar voice said. It was Davis, the captain of the bodyguards. "Can I come in?"

  Vulture went over to the door and checked the peephole. His number one man was standing in the corridor with an anxious expression. Vulture unlocked the door.

  "Get in!" he said.

  As Davis entered the room, Vulture confirmed that six more bodyguards were in the corridor. He locked the door again.

  "I heard noises," Vulture said.

  "Gunshots, sir. There is an intruder on the ship."

  Vulture's shoulders sagged. "How bad is it?"

  "Nine dead," Davis said, "including the entire bridge crew and six of my men. I need to know who this woman is. What are we dealing with?"

  "Don't worry about that. Just kill her."

  "Excuse me, sir? I think a little honesty might be appropriate under the circumstances. Is this the same person who shot five of my men on the dock?"

  "I think so," Vulture said.

  "Then you owe me an explanation."

  Sheila was in the room, so he couldn't lie to Davis without affecting her, but there wasn't much help for it.

  Vulture switched to his special voice. "The little girl we've been chasing is actually the product of a top-secret genetic experiment. She is a prototype for the super-soldier of the future. Foreign governments would pay billions of dollars to study her. The woman we're fighting now is an earlier model, so to speak. Tougher than a normal human. She was sent to keep us from getting our hands on the girl."

  It wasn't his best lie. In retrospect, it was somewhat silly and inconsistent, but he had felt pressured to come up with something on the spot. Davis' slack jaw and glazed eyes indicated the lie had sunk in.

  "Go!" Vulture said. "Kill her before she kills all of us."

  Davis saluted. "Yes, sir." He rushed out of the room.

  Vulture made sure the door was locked behind him.

  "Is that true?" Sheila said with wide-eyed wonder. "A super-soldier is trying to kill us?"

  She was wearing a red satin nightgown which showed off her legs nicely. Her blonde hair had old-fashioned curls.

  "Of course," he said. "Why would I lie? But don't worry. My men will deal with her."

  Vulture wasn't as confident as he sounded. He thought about abandoning the operation and fleeing, but that course of action had its own difficulties. If the other Pythagoreans heard about his cowardice, his reputation and credibility would be destroyed, and his life would be in great peril. The benefactor might kill him outright. For now, it was better to take his chances on the ship. Vulture had paid for the best protection available, and that investment needed to pay off.

  Sheila hugged him. "You're tense. Let me help you relax, dear."

  "Yes." He gave her a brittle smile. "I could use a pleasant distraction."

  * * *

  Hanley could only see glimpses of Peter Zane's palatial home in the Santa Cruz Mountains. Tall trees and fences screened it. Just getting this far had required a long drive up a private, winding road. Zane defined the term "eccentric recluse."

  The legate was leading Hanley, Ipo, Katie, Yang, Boreas, and Olivia to the front gate. The legate moved with unnatural quickness, and everybody else was almost running to keep up.

  The large group arrived at a huge iron gate with a giant golden "Z" bolted to it. Two guards in yellow uniforms emerged from a small guardhouse.

  "Can I help you?" one said.

  The legate took out a wallet and showed him a badge. "We're from the National Security Agency. We need to speak to Peter Zane on an extremely urgent matter."

  The guard frowned at her badge. "Mr. Zane doesn't..."

  She whipped out a gun so fast it looked like a magic trick. She pressed the barrel against his forehead. "Perhaps you didn't hear me. We represent the United States Government, and this matter is urgent."

  She was wearing sunglasses to cover her frightening eyes, but Hanley expected her stare worked nearly as well regardless. There was some hurried discussion over an intercom with other guards. Eventually, the Spears were escorted into the compound.

  The architecture of the Zane estate had a heavy traditional Chinese influence. Golden tiles covered all the roofs, and they had a curved profile leading to sharp points on the corners. All the walls were red or gray. Tall columns and open balconies decorated every floor of every building. Square and hexagonal symmetries were used obsessively. Two five-story pagodas bracketed all the other structures.

  Even the plants looked authentically Chinese. Hanley didn't see a redwood or a pine tree anywhere.

  "Remind you of home?" he said to Yang.

  "More like the Forbidden City," Yang said. "This place is unbelievable."

  The buildings were placed around a large pond. Rather than go around, the guards took the Spears across on a paddle boat. The sound of splashing water was very soothing.

  Eventually, they reached a building with just a single, vast room inside. Red and gold pillars supported a high wooden roof. Everything was elaborately carved. The floor was made of solid stone blocks which fit together so tightly there was no need for mortar.

  "I was right about the Forbidden City," Yang said. "This is an exact reproduction of the Hall of Supreme Harmony. I don't know whether to be impressed or culturally offended."

  The guards stayed outside at the legate's request, although it took the threat of federal prosecution to convince them.

  There was a wooden platform in the center of the room, and a man was working there. Dozens of computers and large monitors surrounded him. Thick bundles of cables and power cords snaked underneath the tables. The great mass of high-tech equipment was jarring in the context of ancient architecture.

  He looked up, and Hanley recognized Zane's famous face. He had soft, almost babyish features. His brown hair, shot with strands of gray, ne
eded a trim. He was wearing a blue bathrobe and fuzzy pink slippers.

  "What's going on?" he demanded. "I'm trying to work here."

  The legate climbed a short staircase to reach the platform. Even though she was obviously angry, her footsteps were still silent.

  "We're from the NSA," she said. "Where is the Fearless Star right now?"

  His eyes widened, and he blanched. "It's docked near Sausalito as usual."

  Hanley could tell Zane was lying. He was a better computer geek than an actor.

  Olivia went up the stairs. "Let me touch your head, please."

  "Huh?" Zane stared at her. "Why?"

  The legate suddenly had a gun in her hand. "Just do it," she said grimly.

  Zane leaned over. "Be cool. There's no need for guns."

  Olivia touched his forehead. He immediately relaxed and smiled as if he had just taken a wonderful drug. The girl's gift impressed and frightened Hanley. It wasn't right for that kind of power to be in the hands of a child.

  She furrowed her brow. "His mind is all twisted in knots. He was lied to."

  The legate nodded. "I'm not surprised. Mr. Zane, where is your ship?"

  "The British Secret Intelligence Service is borrowing it," Zane replied in a sleepy voice.

  "Why?"

  "Some kind of terrorist threat against California. I didn't need the ship, so I let them use it as a floating base. They're paying all the costs. He told me not to talk about it with anybody, but I trust you. I can talk to you about anything."

  "I see," she said. "Can you describe the person who told you all this?"

  "I never got his name, but he was a really good looking guy. Tall. He had a brown beard just on the bottom of his chin. A scar on his nose. He had the most incredible, deep voice."

  "That sounds like Vulture," Olivia said. "One of the Guardians of the Pit gave the same description."

  Hanley felt slightly better about their chances of saving Marina. The team was on the right track at least.