Montague & Strong Detective Novels Box Set: Montague & Strong Detective Novels Books, 1 through 3 (Montague & Strong Case Files)

by Orlando A. Sanchez

  “No, I understand, rules are rules,” Ramirez answered and gave me a quick look. “Stay there, I’ll bring them to you.”

  Ramirez grabbed my bag, walked over to the security booth, and turned his back to the camera. As Gregory leaned over to examine the bag, Ramirez stepped close. The next moment, I saw Gregory slump forward. Ramirez caught him before his head hit the desk and helped him back into his chair.

  Ramirez grabbed the bags, handed me one and headed for the elevators.

  “Did you—?”

  He gave me a surprised look and showed me a small rectangular device he held in his palm. It had two prongs on one end and a large battery on the other.

  “I just gave him a mild shock. He’ll be out for a bit. I don’t make a habit of killing friendlies, Simon.”

  “He’s as big as a house, so that must be some Taser,” I said. “You sure you didn’t stop his heart?”

  “It’s an N-Taser. Shuts the brain down but avoids damage to the heart. At least that’s how Jhon, our Q-master, explained it.”

  “Oh, so you just gave him brain damage. Much better. “How long is he out for?”

  “We have about an hour before he starts to regain consciousness,” Ramirez replied as the elevator doors opened. “I suggest we focus on the task at hand.”

  We stepped inside. I looked at the panel but saw no button for a sub-level four.

  “What the hell?” I said, and looked outside. “It must be another elevator.”

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  “WAIT,” RAMIREZ SAID, putting his bag down. “Hold the door.”

  He ran back to the security booth as I placed a foot in the door track, preventing the doors from closing. He came back holding a key card.

  “There’s nowhere to put that,” I said as I searched the panel. “We need another elevator.”

  “Not according to the schematics. This is the only one that goes to sub-level four.”

  “Except that there’s no button or slot or anything,” I said, frustration evident in my voice.

  “It’s a secret floor,” he said and placed the key card against the panel under the sub-level three button. The panel lit up briefly and the doors closed. “They aren’t going to make it obvious.”

  “How did you know?” I asked.

  “I’ve been around my share of black sites. It’s always something clever, which only makes it predictable. We have about a minute—weapons check.”

  I tightened the straps holding the Ebonsoul to my upper thigh and made sure the Grim Whisper was ready with one in the chamber. I hoped the mala’s shield worked, but I wasn’t depending on it.

  “Ramirez, if you see me take damage, don’t stop,” I said.

  I didn’t know how to tell him about my curse and this wasn’t exactly the moment to say—‘Hey, by the way, I’m cursed and I don’t think I can die,’” so I lied.

  “What do you mean don’t stop? I’m not leaving you down there.”

  “I’ll be able to take the damage. Monty runed my coat to be better than armor,” I said. “I’m good, so just get to the cell.”

  He shook his head in disbelief and checked his weapons.

  “Both of you are lunatics,” he said.

  “Just let me deal with the sorcerers.”

  The elevator doors whispered open and I took a quick glance down the hall before ducking my head back inside. The floor was empty. Ramirez unzipped his bag, walked out of the elevator and strode down the hallway.

  “What are you doing?” I whispered as I caught up with him.

  “Best way to infiltrate a location is to act like you belong there,” he replied.

  The level was a large rectangle with three massive cell doors in each of the four sides. A right turn at the end of the hallway put us facing another row of cells.

  “Halt!” a voice from behind us said. “Present your ID or I will fire.”

  We turned and Ramirez slowly put his hand into an inside pocket to pull out his badge. The guard stood ten yards away with his gun drawn. It was clear he swam in the same gene pool as Gregory upstairs. He was easily over six-foot-two and tipping the scales approaching three-hundred pounds of mostly muscle.

  “Lieutenant Angel Ramirez, NYTF, and I’m here because someone reported a disturbance,” Ramirez said as he dropped his bag. “Can you direct me to your supervisor? We seemed to be turned around.”

  “Bullshit,” the guard answered. “You two just got off on the wrong floor.”

  He grabbed his shoulder radio.

  “I have two intru—” he started.

  Ramirez fired twice. The first shot exploded the radio. The second shot hit the guard’s center mass and propelled him down the hallway and into the wall. A small crater erupted behind him as he smashed into the wall with force and crumpled to the ground. We ran to his body and dragged him to the elevator bank.

  “Kinetic rounds? Since when does the NYTF use those?” I asked, surprised.

  “Since we aren’t here to kill everyone. What are you carrying?”

  “Entropy rounds,” I said after a pause. “For Chaos.”

  He narrowed his eyes at me and shook his head.

  “Are you crazy? You hit one of these guys with one of those and they’re gone,” he said. “Bringing a nuke to a gun fight.”

  I grabbed him by the shoulder. “I’m not here to negotiate or ask for cooperation.”

  “I’m not here to massacre a bunch of guys just doing their jobs, either,” he answered and shook my hand off his shoulder. “Even if this whole level is unauthorized.”

  “That’s why you’re doing the shooting,” I answered, looking at the doors. “Cell seven must be back around the corner.”

  “That way,” he said and gestured forward. “Get a move on, Simon.”

  “I’m kind of surprised there aren’t more guards,” I said as we turned the corner.

  “You mean like that?” Ramirez said as he pointed ahead of us.

  Down the hallway, a squad of commandos in battle gear were headed in our direction.

  “Light ‘em up!” were the last words I heard before the gunfire erupted. We dived back around the corner as bullets filled the hallway, destroying the wall across from us.

  “Guess they aren’t going to ask for ID?” Ramirez said as he opened his bag.

  “In about thirty seconds a group is going to come around behind us and then we’re screwed,” I said. “We need to neutralize them fast.”

  “I got this,” he said and rummaged through his bag, pulling out several grenades. “These should do it.”

  “Kinetic grenades—NYTF is full of surprises. Those things are impossible to get.”

  “Not for me. I know a guy,” he said and smiled. “You want to move down the hallway.”

  I ran down the corridor, keeping my eye on the distant corner. He crept up to the end of the hallway and tossed a handful of grenades at the commandos. I felt the wave of energy build as he ran back to my location. A blinding flash of light signaled the grenades going off. The explosion was silent, the screams weren’t.

  I was still seeing spots as I headed to the end of the corridor and I poked my head around to see the damage. Most of the commandos were down but alive. In the rear, I saw the real threat.

  “There’s a sorcerer back there,” I said. “And he doesn’t look like he wants to talk.”

  “Can I shoot him?” Ramirez asked. “Bouncing a person off a wall usually helps the conversation along.”

  “He just survived the grenades, so I don’t think bullets are going to do much damage—at least not yours,” I said.

  “No alarms and no cameras,” he said, looking around quickly. “They don’t intend to capture us.”

  “Yeah, I noticed. It’s a black site and we’re trespassing. They can terminate with extreme prejudice. Pretty sure they don’t want records of what happens down here.”

  “Sorcerer is all yours. I’ll go around the other way and see if I can outflank and distract him,” he said. “Are you
going to be able to deal with the magic?”

  “No choice,” I said as I closed my jacket. “We need him alive, Angel. He may be the only way to open the cell door.”

  “Then don’t kill him,” he said and ran down the corridor away from me.

  I turned the corner and stared at the fireball racing at me. There was no time to jump out of the way. I pressed the mala, but no shield appeared. I pulled out the Ebonsoul and prepared to be barbequed.

  TWENTY-NINE

  THE FIREBALL CRASHED into me. The heat caressed my body like a summer day. My immunity to magic didn’t extend to my clothes. My runed coat managed not to burst into flame, but my jeans weren’t so lucky. I put out the flames and ran at the surprised sorcerer.

  He threw another fireball and I slid under it, feeling its heat as it flew over me. I closed the distance, stepping over unconscious commandos as I drew the Ebonsoul.

  “I don’t want to kill you, but you’re beginning to piss me off,” I said. “Enough with the fireballs.”

  He was a lanky mess. His robes barely fit and looked two sizes too large. His hair was disheveled and he had several days’ worth of stubble on his face. I almost felt sorry for him, until I looked into his eyes. I was staring into the eyes of a killer.

  He smiled, looked at me with a cold, dead expression, and pulled out a blade as long as the Ebonsoul.

  “You’re immune to magic, but I’m sure you bleed like the rest of us,” he said. “Tell your friend to stay back or I will burn all these men to ash.”

  He kept his voice low, but the menace punched me in the chest. I looked at the commandos in the hallway. There was no need for them to needlessly die.

  “Ramirez, stay back—he’s serious,” I yelled. “I got this.”

  “All yours,” Ramirez answered from around the corner. “Never liked magic anyway.”

  “I need you to open that cell door and let the prisoner out,” I said. Monty had always said to try diplomacy first.

  “Sure, right after you kill me,” the sorcerer said, brandishing the blade.

  So much for diplomacy.

  The lesson I learned from Master Yat regarding fighting with knives and blades was twofold. Cut first, cut fast, or die. That and expect to be cut.

  I stepped in and slashed across the horizontal, reversing direction at the last second and lunging. He skipped back and side-stepped my lunge while thrusting forward with his blade. I parried his thrust and hit him with a fist to the temple. He stepped back, dazed, as I kicked his knee and sent it sideways, shattering it and making sure he would have to use a cane for the rest of his life.

  He fell, screaming and holding his leg. I placed a restraint on his wrist, neutralizing his magic, and kicked his blade away. Most sorcerers were too dependent on their abilities to learn how to fight properly without them. No one said you can’t punch and kick in a knife fight.

  “Open the door or I break the other one,” I said as I crouched down next to him. I grabbed him by the arm and stood him up. I pushed him to the door as he fished out a black keycard. I saw the iridescent runes on its surface as he placed it against the wall next to the cell. The door hissed opened and slid away.

  Ramirez came around the corner with his gun drawn.

  “Is he cuffed?” he asked.

  I nodded and handed him the second silver runic restraint while pocketing the keycard. “Put this on him and he should be easy to deal with.”

  Ramirez cuffed him and then placed what looked like a nicotine patch on the sorcerer’s neck. The sorcerer collapsed a few seconds later.

  “What was that?” I asked.

  “Transdermal knockout patch,” he answered as he started placing them on the commandos. “Go get your prisoner. I’ll make sure they don’t wake up for a few hours. Can I keep the restraints on him?”

  I nodded. “Be right out,” I said as I sheathed the Ebonsoul and stepped into the cell.

  It was a large space—more living quarters than cell. A small table with a chair sat in one corner. On the opposite side of the room, I could see a bed. Directly across from that I saw a small sink, and adjacent to the sink was a door that I imagined led to a bathroom. Seated cross-legged in the middle of the floor was a man. He looked to be in his mid-thirties. His brown hair hung loosely to his shoulders. He wore a black T-shirt and black pants and was barefoot. Around the room, I saw runes inscribed on every surface. I couldn’t make out what they meant, but I guessed they operated on the same principle as the restraints.

  “Simon Strong, it is a pleasure,” he said and gave me a short nod. “I really didn’t expect you. But it makes sense.”

  “Charon?” I asked. “Are you the Ferryman?”

  “Were you looking for someone else?” he said and stood. “Oh, I see.”

  His clothes transformed and shifted into a long robe with a cowl. “This better? Or do I need to escort a soul to prove my identity?”

  “You have a lot of people wondering where you were,” I asked as his clothes transformed back to the T-shirt and pants. “How did you manage that with all those runes?”

  “Once you opened the door, you broke the seal,” he said. “Shall we leave? Or are you here to join me?”

  “I don’t think we can go out the same way we came in. This level isn’t supposed to exist.”

  “The elevators are all shutdown,” Ramirez said from the doorway. “There may not be alarms blaring but you’d better believe they are coming for us.”

  Charon gave us a small smile. “You do realize there is no such thing as a locked room for me,” he said. “I can travel anywhere at will.”

  “Well, except this one,” I said, looking around. “This one seemed to stop you.”

  His face darkened for a moment as he nodded at me.

  “Yes, this room is a trap, designed with runes unknown to man for millennia. Chaos lured me here with the soul of a sorcerer, and sealed me in.”

  “Can you take us right outside this building?” Ramirez asked. “I have some calls to make.”

  He gestured for us to come closer. I stepped closer but still kept my distance because, frankly, he was giving me a significant creepy vibe. He closed the distance and stood between Ramirez and me. He closed his eyes and everything went black.

  THIRTY

  WE STOOD OUTSIDE the detention center. I took two steps and felt my stomach twist into knots and the nausea hit me. The ground shifted and tilted sideways as I lost my balance. Ramirez and I doubled over and threw up our breakfasts.

  “What did you do?” I asked in between retching and gasping.

  “Coño, not even after my worst hangovers have I felt like this,” Ramirez said and leaned on a parked car. “What happened?”

  Charon walked over to where we were redecorating the sidewalk. He was no longer barefoot, now wearing a black suit with a white shirt and deep-blue tie.

  “My method of travel can have some unpleasant side-effects. My apologies,” he said, keeping his distance from the both of us. “The discomfort should pass momentarily.”

  I started walking to the Goat, not wanting to remain in front of the detention center longer than we had to. I placed my hand on the handle and unlocked the door.

  “Is Monty alive?” I asked as I opened the door. “Can you tell?”

  “I don’t deal in life—I deal in death,” Charon said. “Are you referring to Tristan Montague?”

  I nodded and regretted the action immediately as the horizon swam before me. “Can you tell if he’s alive or at least not dead?” I asked and held down more retching.

  “I’m not omniscient,” Charon said. “I only know when someone dies. In this current iteration, my purpose is to gather the souls of recently deceased sorcerers. Tristan is not a sorcerer.”

  “How about locating him?” I asked, once my stomach stopped doing somersaults. “Can you sense where he may be?”

  “Simon,” Ramirez said, putting a hand on my shoulder, “there’s a good chance Tristan is dead.”

 
“I didn’t ask for your opinion.” I shrugged off his hand, and then it hit me. “Charon, can you tell me where the last sorcerer died, a soul you didn’t collect because of your being trapped?”

  He closed his eyes for a moment and tilted his head up.

  “There,” he said and pointed. “There is an eight-sided structure several miles from here surrounded by water. That soul is currently enthralled and can’t be escorted.”

  I looked in the direction he pointed. The only place that fit the description didn’t make sense, though.

  “Are you certain?” I asked. “That’s Roosevelt Island. It’s all luxury buildings and Cornell University. Why would Chaos pick that location?”

  “That is where he is and I must return to Hades to report.” Nine sorcerer souls have been taken in my absence and I must restore balance.”

  “Hades? His building was destroyed by Chaos. I don’t know if he made it.”

  “Hades is nearly impossible to destroy, much like Chaos,” he said. “You can’t kill chaos.”

  “He’s immortal?” Ramirez asked, surprised. “Simon, this is a bad idea.”

  “The concept of chaos may be immortal; the body he resides in isn’t,” Charon answered. “I said nearly impossible. The body he inhabits can be killed, but not without great effort. He is a god, after all.”

  “Chaos wants to weaponize the null rune, so how do I stop him? He’s going to kill Roxanne and Monty.”

  “Considering your current state,”—Charon looked at Ramirez briefly before turning back to me—“I would say you have the greatest chance of stopping him. Use the tools you have at hand.”

  “What tools? My sword can’t scratch him and I don’t know if entropy rounds will work on a god,” I said. “I can’t beat him.”

  “They don’t need to work on a god, Simon. Chaos shares your affliction. I must go.”

  He stepped back, closed his eyes for a few seconds, and disappeared.

  “Well, that wasn’t cryptic at all,” I said. “Ramirez, I’m taking the negation rune.”

  He nodded. “Listen, Simon, why not just locate this bastard, Chaos, and call in the magical cavalry and bomb the place?” he said.