"'Cause there's two of them in the arms locker. Along with some other stuff that I have no idea what the Hel it is. There's also some really cool blades." At the mention of the swords her eyes lit up, which I thought was pretty cool; but then I like swords too. "The library has some things in it that I've only heard rumors of, and I found the power and water system. There was some serious thought given here. The place is multiply redundant, and most of the power generation is passive. There's a tidal generator out there in the straits." She gestured towards the relatively narrow body of water between Coon Island and McConnell Island to the northeast. "That generates most of the power for the place. In addition, there's two wind generators at the top of the hill, and a large propane generator buried underground with a two thousand gallon tank that also feeds the range in the kitchen. Water is from an artesian well, and phone is via submerged cable. With the exception of phone service, which we could sure do without, this place is off the grid. Of course, we have to get deliveries of propane about once a year if we're living here all the time, but that's not bad. The stove is an Aga by the way, and I love it. Come on, dinner's on."
Over dinner Mary told me about some other stuff that she had found in her nosing around. This included what I can only describe as an owner's manual for the house on the house LAN. It included a list of the alarm systems both mundane and magical with the manufacturer/spell-caster, methods of detection, arming and disarming, how to turn off the alarm, or in one case where to hide the bodies. It also included wiring diagrams, plumbing blueprints, maps and structural documents for the building, with it was a full inventory of everything in the house. This appeared to be a spell, as it updates continuously.
When I pointed this out to Mary, she said "Oh, of course, it's a modified version of something Lars and Robyn wrote. It's the standard in the industry, I'm sure the military uses it. I could teach you how to do this one; it's a modified clerical blessing spell." and Mary was off. I had made the mistake of pushing her teaching button. It seems that this spell was one of the ways that Lars and Robyn had parlayed the money he brought in from the war into the seriously absurd amount of money that he willed to me.
This spell wasn't that much more efficient than the little radio tags they're putting on store inventory at Walmart, except you didn't have to put on any tags. Just bring it into the house, set it down, and the spell identifies it, and logs it. The spell uses the theory of contagion, or once together always together, along with a blessing and guarding spell that looks for outside influences and reports them. Mary says that some version of this spell has been around since the Middle Ages. Back then it used a blessed parchment that words would appear on. The down side is that the parchment only lasted so long, and then you would have to do a new spell, and spells are expensive.
That's pretty much the history of technology, it seems to me. Figure out a method of doing something cheaper without magic that you can already do with magic, but only at great expense. See, the thing about magic is that it's like medicine. Take the population of the world, only a small percentage actually has the aptitude to be a doctor. Of the subset doctors, only a very small percentage has the capability to be neurosurgeons. So when you want surgery on your spinal cord, or when you want a difficult spell performed, you are going to pay through the nose. In actuality, magic is even worse, because it requires energy to do, and that energy has to come from somewhere. Usually out of the mage, before electricity came along, and electricity still doesn't help as much as you might think. There are conversion issues; the efficiency of conversion is about ten percent. This is why people still revert to using things like death magic, it's easier. I learned quite a bit about the history of magic over the next few moments, then Mary handed me a book she had found up in Lars' closet, and I sat down to read.
The book was Lars' war diary. Just skimming it took the next four hours, and I really wanted to sit down and read it cover to cover. I learned a lot about Uncle Lars and Aunt Robyn over those four hours. Lars and Robyn had met during the Second World War. Both had been members of the Resistance, and after the Resistance found out about Lars' Baresark abilities they sent him to one of the few mages they had, to see if he had any magical abilities.
I guess I should mention here, because it's not taught much in school, that magic played a serious role in the Second World War, on both sides. Not so much in a direct combat role, most of the combat magic just isn't as efficient as shooting or blowing up the bad guy, but in the manufacture and control role. For instance the Nordon-Wycoff bombsight used magic technology to determine bomb release points. Of course, now we can do it with electronics and terminal guidance, but they didn't have that back in the Stone Age of electronics. They also used it for intelligence, communications, and occasionally for sabotage. And practitioners were damn few and far between.
Which brings us back to Lars and Robyn. She had been a chef in Paris before the war, and a dabbler in the magical arts. During the era between the wars in Europe, magic had "gone out of style", and technology was "the thing". In that situation, a middle-class girl just couldn't make a living as a mage. In France if you were a fine cook, you could always find work. So she had worked as a chef and studied magic on the side. When the clouds of war appeared on the horizon, women mages weren't taken seriously by the French government (that's OK; they didn't take De Gaulle or tank warfare seriously either). So Robyn continued to work as a chef until the war started, and very soon thereafter, there wasn't a France any longer.
She joined the Resistance, which had no such stupid ideas on the ability of females to do magic, and became one of the few mages they had. As such, she was the only one available when this former SS trooper that had switched sides needed to be evaluated, and taught magic. The rest of their personal life is the oldest story in the world. Man and woman thrown together in the crucible of war, blah blah blah. Their professional life on the other hand was the sort of story that they write best-selling novels about. These two pulled off some of the wildest shit I've ever heard of. I suspect that some of their ops are still used for training at various spook schools around the world.
I do know that at least some of it became matter of record, because I saw the medals that Lars kept in a box with the journal. They include:
The US Distinguished Service Cross (Army), and Silver Star, the Danish King Christian X Medal of Freedom, and the Resistance Medal, the Netherlands Bronze Lion- two awards, and the Resistance Cross, the Norwegian King Haakon VII's Cross of Liberty, the British King's Medal of Courage, and the George Cross, and the King George Medal for Courage in the Cause of Freedom, the French Knight Commander of the Legion of Honor, the Croix De Guerre with Gold Palms, and the Order of Liberation, and the Belgian Order of the Crown Grand officer with Gold Palm, the War Cross with Palm, the Armed Resistance Medal, and the Medal of Gratitude.
Damn.
After the war, they spent a short while in Europe, and then came over here, going back to Europe occasionally on business or for pleasure. I suspect that their business included business for Thor and the boys, but I'm not positive. I do know that their consulting firm made enough money doing things that technology couldn't, that by the time they were nominally retired, they were very well off indeed. One of the things that they came up with was this inventory spell that would update to your computer software what, and how much, you have in a given building. It only works for that building, but it will work for as long as you have the original computer and original building. It also costs an arm and a leg and has to be repurchased for each additional installation. It wasn't going to put the laser barcode readers out of business, but for specialized applications dealing with high value inventory, or where taking inventory on a regular basis isn't practical, it has no peer. They had also invented a few of the security spells that were in use around the place, and gods only know what else. Wow.
By the time I was done scanning the diary, it was time for bed. In fact, it was past time. Mary and I spent a while reacquainting
ourselves with each other and then fell asleep in the afterglow. Seconds later I was awake again, or so it seemed. Hmm, apple groves, perfect spring weather...oh, and yes, that confirms it, here comes Lars and Robyn. I had been recalled to Valhalla. Lars hadn't looked in on me for over a week. I was beginning to think he was going to leave me alone, having taught me everything I needed to go forth on my own. That was obviously not the case.
"Good evening Aunt Robyn, hi Uncle Lars, time for lessons?" I asked with a grin.
"Not quite. Although we will show you some stuff before you wake up."
"OK, then to what do I owe this meeting? Oh and by the way, what's with the Italian Tank with the HAMMER license plate?"
"Now John, be nice. When I bought that, you couldn't get a Hummer on the open market, and I needed something that wouldn't be stopped, and capable of mounting a light machine-gun. That would do it, and I might say would do it in comfort. It's got the Marine Multi-fueler eight-liter engine in it. It's fully armored, mounts the M-240 in a top pintle, and goes zero to sixty in four seconds on pavement, dirt, or soft sand. It can run on any liquid that will burn. And it's got air-conditioned seats, a full navigation suite, and satellite communications."
"But Lars, what the Hel do you need a tank like that for?"
"It was for something I had to do down in central Mexico."
"OH!"
"Now, speaking of things I had to do, I've got something like that for you. The boss wants you to take care of those Vets up in the hills."
"Lars, I can't just kill them, the only thing they're guilty of is poaching, and maybe rustling. We don't hang cattle rustlers in these parts anymore." The last, I said with a smile.
Lars gave me a long-suffering look. "I didn't mean kill them, I meant take care of them, as in protect them from harm."
"But Lars, they're breaking the law, damn it. I can't just give them a pass on that. They're going to have to answer for that."
"Lad, don't you think they've answered enough? Shit, some of these guys are World War Two vets! They're warriors, boy, not criminals. They're just as injured as if they had lost a limb. The least the country owes them is a few elk and a couple cows."
"OK, you have a point there. Sorry Lars, sometimes I get so caught up in being a cop I forget the big picture. But why do I need to look after them, they seem to be doing all right?"
"John, I can't tell you. Just like I couldn't tell you who was doing the poaching until you figured it out for yourself."
"Well, can you tell me how they need looking after? What should I be protecting them from?"
Lars sighed "No, all I can say is that you'll know it when you see it."
"Oh, well that certainly clears things up."
Aunt Robyn took a try at it next. "John, you've dealt with security restrictions before. This is just like that. Believe me; you will know it when you see it. The good news is that we're going to be allowed to teach some of the magic we've devised over the years. The powers agree that you would be able to get it anyway, so it's not really cheating to get taught it by the source." The rest of the night was spent on how to set up an alarm spell. I had already learned how to bless water to make what the Christian church called holy water. The rest of it was just a matter of blessing an area with the holy water, and convincing the water to tell me when something not natural intruded, especially if the intruder was of hostile intent. It sounds more difficult than it really is, once you know the trick. But then isn't that the way of the world? Lars and Robyn drilled me over and over in this spell until I could do this flawlessly, then they had me put one up and set it off. I woke up, and the spell was still going off.
Shit, this is real, I thought as I was bailing out of bed on one side, with Mary bailing out of the other. Both of us scrambling into clothes and grabbing weapons. I could tell from the spell (the one Lars and Robyn had installed long ago, not the one I was putting up in my dream) that the intruder was in front of the house, and hadn't landed yet. Wait a minute. Hadn't landed yet? What-the-fuck? Mary grabbed a twelve-gauge from a cupboard I hadn't looked in yet, I had my service weapon, a USP .45 and we were on our way out of the bedroom at a run. We got to the kitchen and were going through the door into the 'cabin' that was the only visible structure as we heard the helo blades spinning down. I looked outside and saw the ubiquitous black helicopter. The one all of the conspiracy nuts talk about. But this one wasn't in some tinfoil-hat-wearer's imagination; it was big as shit and forty yards from my door.
I looked at Mary and said "Get on the phone to the Island County Sheriff's Office. Tell them that an unauthorized landing was just made on our island by an unmarked helicopter. Don't tell them it's black or they'll hang up on you. Also, tell them that I am a Federal cop and that I have gone out to question the operators...and I'm armed. That should get them moving. Then I need you to cover me, preferably with the biggest weapon that you think you can figure out how to shoot." One of the things I love about the woman, she didn't argue, or ask questions, she just took off. Now before you go thinking I went all macho by going out to confront the bad guys while the little woman stays inside: One, I'm close to bullet-proof, Mary ain't. Two, they're more likely to know I'm there, they may not know about Mary. And three, I really meant for her to cover me, she's better at magic than I am, and may be as good with a gun, or at least I like her instincts. There's very little that can argue conclusions with a twelve gauge shotgun in the hands of someone that knows what to do with it.
As I opened the door I realized just what a thoughtful individual Lars was. There was a series of bushes and hummocks between the cabin door and the pier. Because of this, there was only one place to land anything larger than a hang glider, and that was right at the pier. These bushes also provided something like concealment on the way down to the only place uninvited guests might show up. I really like the way Lars thought. Well, I guess it was time to go find out who the Hel this was.
I moved towards the helicopter carefully, not quite rushing from cover to cover, but keeping near a place to dive into if it got really stupid out. The bird was a little Jet Ranger, not usually an offensive vehicle, but then friendly visitors usually call ahead, and never show up in a black chopper with no registration numbers. Once I got close enough that they could make me out in the shadows of the early morning, two guys got out of the bird. Both of them were in black utilities with no insignia. That was all I needed, if these guys were cops they would have insignia.
I dived behind the nearest cover, a rather large pine tree, and drew a sight picture on the pilot. "You fuckers have ten seconds to either produce a search warrant, or a court order, and some ID, or get back in that bird and get it the fuck off my island."
Both of them went prone and the pilot shouted "Fisher, you don't want to do that. You'll buy yourself more trouble than you can possibly imagine. I'm a Federal officer."
"That's nice, so am I. You got a warrant? 'Cause if not, you're just another trespasser. I've already called the County Sheriff, who does have jurisdiction, something that I doubt you do. State your business and get the fuck off my land."
"Fisher, I know you didn't call anyone, your cell phone doesn't work right now. If you don't put away that pistol and come out here with your hands up, I'm going to come in there after you. It's two on one, how do you like those odds?"
Just then I heard the distinctive pop of a loudspeaker cutting in, and Mary's voice came from everywhere. "In the helicopter! You will drop your weapons and place your hands on your head. Failure to comply will result in the use of deadly force. Island County Sheriff's department is in route."
I moved to another tree just to keep them honest and shouted "I would do what she says, boys, she ain't patient like me." I also noticed that there was a blackberry bush rapidly entwining itself in the tail rotor. After about twenty seconds there was what looked like five years worth of bush entwined around the tail of the chopper, and short of a couple hours of work with a machete that thing wasn't going anywhere.
One of the guys from the chopper shouted "Bullshit, you've got some sort of computer or something programmed. We have a cell jammer up, you can't call anywhere. You're bluffing."
I shouted back "Take a look at the back of your bird, asshole! And I didn't say we called on a cell, I just said we called."
Mary's voice interrupted me "John, keep your pistol on them. Take the one on the port side of the chopper, I've got the other one. Stand up."
So I stood up, assuming a proper Weaver stance as I did, keeping the pilot covered. The crack of a high powered rifle sounded as I did so and dirt flew into the face of the other guy. "You assholes still think I'm bluffing? Look at the back of your ride out of here." This time they finally looked at the tail of the chopper, and their eyes got about the size of silver dollars. They looked back at me and I could see the realization sink in. They were well and truly fucked. Both of them dropped their weapons, I noted in passing that they were carrying MP-5s, and placed their hands on top of their heads, fingers interlacing in approved government fashion. I walked up until I was about twenty feet away, and put my pistol at the low ready. "OK, now, who the Hel are you people, and why did you invade my island, wake me up, piss me off, and generally ruin my morning before I even had my first cup of coffee?"
"Fisher, who we are isn't important. Wh..."
I cut him off right there. "Try again. Who you are is the only thing that's important right now. You have invaded my home, sir. With no identification, and without any indication that this is an official act by lawful persons, providing no proof of your authorization to do so, you showed up uninvited at my house and pointed automatic weapons at me. Do you have any idea of the amount of shit you are in right now? I could shoot your ass and walk on the charges; or I could just hold you for county, and then sue the shit out of you for violation of about a dozen civil rights laws. Which of those I do depends solely on you providing me with some identification NOW." Sadly, with the current individual sitting in the Oval Office, I'm not sure the suit and charges would stick, but I was figuring that even the threat (and by another level of federale, not some poor civilian that they could shut up with impunity) was enough to keep them honest...and I was right.
Keeping The Faith (John Fisher Chronicles Book 2) Page 8
