Memory Hunter

by Frank Morin

  She rolled under his fist, her hips and torso twisting together to place her right shoulder in perfect position. With all her weight concentrated into her right fist, she punched him in the stomach.

  The entire exchange took less than half a second.

  The impact rattled her arm all the way up to her shoulder, but she felt no pain. Alter clutched his stomach, startled.

  Tomas laughed. “Awesome!”

  Eirene pulled Sarah into a hug and whispered into her ear, “Well done, my dear.”

  Gregorios looked from Sarah to Alter and grunted. “Huh. We’re going to have to discuss the placement of this rune in more detail, boy.”

  Alter nodded absently. “I still don’t believe it.”

  “You’re the one who proved it,” Tomas said. “Did you actually mean to punch her?”

  “No, I just wanted to prove my point before the rune sealed and hurt her. This shouldn’t have happened.”

  Eirene patted his arm. “There are some secrets even you don’t know yet.”

  Quentin interrupted. He had returned to the table to check a laptop. “My friends, I received a tip from one of my staffers at the headquarters. The council have kept the details of Mai Luan’s next visit secret, but there are hints she’s coming today or tomorrow. I’ll head into the office at first light and see what I can find.”

  “Good,” Gregorios said. “That’ll give us time to finalize the plan and run our test.”

  “After breakfast,” Eirene said. She gave Sarah another hug, then dragged Gregorios out of the room.

  As the others filtered after, Sarah pulled Tomas aside. “I’m not sleepy. How about you?”

  “Not really,” he said through a yawn.

  “My new swimsuit arrived yesterday,” Sarah said. “I’m going to swim some laps. Join me?”

  “You do realize it’s three-thirty?”

  “Wimp.”

  “Fine,” he grinned. “Let’s do some laps. First one to give up pays for dinner tomorrow.”

  “You’re on.”

  I can’t go back to yesterday because I was wearing a different person then.

  ~Lewis Carroll

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  The chime of the elevator drew Quentin’s attention from the recently completed project on his workbench. The expansive research lab where he worked was situated in the first basement level, next to the armory. He was alone in the fun shop, as he liked to call it, and expected to see one of his assistants returning from lunch break.

  Instead, a burly man dressed as an enforcer stepped from the elevator. Quentin had never seen the swarthy-skinned man before.

  “May I help you?” he called, while slipping a slender device off his workbench and into his pocket.

  “You are Quentin?” the enforcer asked in heavily accented English. The accent matched his Turkish dark coloring.

  Quentin had known many Turks, and both friend and foe had commanded respect.

  “Indeed I am,” he replied.

  “Master Shahrokh requires your presence immediately.”

  The enforcer’s hand dropped to his waist as he spoke, caressing the hilt of a long, forward curving knife Quentin recognized as a traditional Yatagan, a Turkish blade popular back in the Ottoman Empire.

  He had to be new, or he’d never enter Quentin’s domain and make any kind of threatening move, especially not with a simple knife.

  “I don’t think we’ve met,” Quentin said, shifting along the bench and stowing a pair of automatic pistols. He knew every enforcer stationed in Rome, and would have wagered that he knew every enforcer employed by the council. Did Shahrokh expect him to miss the import of having a man he’d never met bear the summons?

  “I am Behram,” the enforcer declared. “Shahrokh doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

  “Of course not,” Quentin agreed, catching up his jacket. “Lead on.”

  “Leave your sidearm here,” Behram ordered, pointing at Quentin’s shoulder holster.

  Quentin was tempted to ask the curt fellow to make him, but then he’d have to explain to Shahrokh that he’d been delayed carrying the broken enforcer to the infirmary. He slipped off his shoulder rig and placed it into a locking cabinet. It fit inside better after he palmed a couple more toys.

  “Let’s move along, son,” Quentin said, leading the way to the elevator. “I’ve got work to get back to.”

  Behram didn’t respond, but punched the button for the third floor. He remained silent all the way to Shahrokh’s office. The secretary looked nervous as she motioned Quentin into the inner office.

  He knew the council were fading fast, but the timing for this foolishness was simply terrible.

  Shahrokh sat behind his massive mahogany desk in a padded leather executive chair that was far too big for his wizened frame. He wore a dark suit, but the powder blue fleece blanket draped around his shoulders lessened the hoped-for intimidating effect. Quentin had known Shahrokh for over two decades, and he’d never known the man to need to try intimidating his visitors.

  “How are you feeling today, sir?” Quentin asked.

  “Terrible,” Shahrokh growled. “And I’ll remain that way until the machines are proven effective.”

  “We’re all hoping for successful tests,” Quentin said. He stopped before the massive desk, but Shahrokh made no motion for him to sit.

  Behram positioned himself a couple paces behind Quentin and to his right.

  “You seem to have taken a particular interest in the upcoming test,” Shahrokh said, his watery gaze fixed on Quentin’s face. “I’ve received reports that you’ve been trying to learn the time of Mai Luan’s expected arrival.”

  “Of course,” Quentin said, keeping his expression calm. He had thought he’d been quite circumspect in his inquiries, but the council must have added additional security layers he hadn’t been informed of. “For such an important event, I want to be prepared to supply the men with every tool they might need.”

  “A plausible explanation,” Shahrokh said, nodding his wrinkled head with his shriveled neck. “If not for recent events, I would believe you.”

  “You’ve never had cause to doubt my loyalty,” Quentin protested.

  “Nor did I doubt Tomas,” Shahrokh shouted, climbing shakily to his feet. “And he served with greater distinction than you, and ten times as long!”

  “I am not Tomas,” Quentin said carefully.

  “No,” Shahrokh agreed, dropping back into his chair. “And yet Tomas worked for you, and you alone, for the past many months. Is it beyond the realm of possibility that the two of you have colluded against me?”

  “Tomas did what he did to protect you against a Cui Dashi,” Quentin said, unable to restrain himself. Seeing Shahrokh brought so low saddened him and enraged him at the same time. This man had always been such a mighty force in the world, and now he was reduced to a pathetic, suspicious husk.

  “She alone promises salvation,” Shahrokh said. “And by your own words, you condemn yourself.”

  The outer door opened and another enforcer entered. Domenico was an Italian who loved to laugh, although at the moment he wore a solemn expression.

  “My loyalty has not wavered,” Quentin said, slipping his right hand into his pocket.

  “Perhaps,” Shahrokh said. “Perhaps not. But we can take no chances this close to success. You will remain in holding until after the machines are proven.”

  “And if I object?” Quentin asked.

  Behram’s hand slid to his Yatagan. “Don’t.”

  Domenico approached. “Quentin, sir, please. This is only a precaution.”

  Even he didn’t look like he believed his words, but Quentin acquiesced. “Very well. I will submit to your command. Perhaps you’ll reconsider.”

  “I look forward to reinstating you soon,” Shahrokh said. “You are dismissed.”

  Quentin left the office, with Behram and Domenico falling into step on either side. Behram extracted a pair of steel handcuffs.

&n
bsp; “Put those away, or I’ll drop you right here,” Domenico snarled.

  “He’s a prisoner,” Behram objected.

  “Quentin’s won the respect of every man in this building,” Domenico said evenly. “So I guarantee anyone seeing you leading him anywhere in handcuffs will shoot you first and ask questions second. Your call.”

  The Turk tucked the handcuffs away with a scowl.

  When they stepped into the elevator for the trip down to the third basement level holding cells, Domenico muttered, “I’m sorry about this, sir.”

  “Don’t converse with the prisoner,” Behram snapped.

  “Always follow orders,” Quentin agreed. “Discipline is the foundation of success.”

  Behram nodded, looking even more cross that he was forced to agree.

  “I regret we’ve met under such difficult circumstances,” Quentin said, extending a hand.

  Behram looked at him like he was crazy.

  “You don’t have to be cross,” Quentin said with a warm smile and patted the enforcer on the arm.

  Behram’s eyes bulged as every muscle convulsively locked under an electric burst delivered by the device in Quentin’s hand. The color of skin and molded to his palm, the device was kind of like a super-charged buzzer. It was all but invisible before it delivered thousands of volts of shock effect.

  “Uh, sir, I should probably object,” Domenico said.

  “Duly noted,” Quentin said, jabbing a pair of tranquilizer darts into the still-stunned Behram. As the man slumped to the floor, he pushed the elevator stop button.

  “What are you going to do?” Domenico asked.

  “Try to resolve this mess we find ourselves in.”

  “That would be welcome, sir, but how?”

  “You obviously see that the council is on a fatal course.”

  “There’s nothing I can do,” Domenico lamented.

  “Actually, there is,” Quentin said. “There’s only one man who can lead the Tenth through this trial.”

  “Captain Anaru’s a good man,” Domenico said.

  “Of course, but we both know who we need in command right now.”

  “He’s been labeled rogue.”

  “Labels can change,” Quentin said, gripping Domenico’s arm. The enforcer tensed just a little, but then relaxed when no electric shock assaulted him. “Notify my home of what’s going on, and pass along a message for me. Will you do that?”

  Domenico hesitated only a moment. “I will.”

  “Good man. I’ll be in my shop, and I will not be accepting visitors.”

  “I’ll spread the word,” Domenico said, his ready smile breaking forth for the first time.

  “Excellent. Then I’ll need only one more favor.”

  The alternate domination of one faction over another, sharpened by the spirit of revenge natural to party dissension, which in different ages and countries has perpetrated the most horrid enormities, is itself a frightful despotism. But allowing enchanters to gain a foothold within this fledgling nation would lead at length to a more formal and permanent despotism.

  ~George Washington

  Chapter Fifty

  Tomas approached the side entrance to the Suntara building with an unhurried stride that concealed his keyed-up nerves. At every step, he expected a heavily-armed squad of enforcers to swarm from the building, or a sniper to fire from a concealed outpost high above.

  He accepted the risk. No other path lay open to him. He’d departed immediately upon receiving Quentin’s message, despite strenuous objections from Sarah. Their plan to take Mai Luan required careful timing, relying upon information only Quentin could obtain. Even though his position had been compromised, Tomas was honor-bound to respond.

  The message had provided a long-shot chance, and Tomas seized upon it. Even if that chance didn’t exist, he’d take the risk. Tomas paused outside the wooden entry door and checked his concealed weapons. After a deep breath, he typed in the key code and pushed open the door.

  Domenico waited for him inside. No one manned the inner security booth.

  “It’s good to see you, Captain,” Domenico said with a grin.

  Tomas clasped hands with him in the traditional Roman manner, hand to forearm. Despite the passage of the centuries, the Tenth still greeted each other the traditional way. “I appreciate your faith in me.”

  “I hope it’s well-founded, for both of us.”

  “It is,” Tomas assured him, despite his own doubts. “Take me to Anaru.”

  Domenico led Tomas into the headquarters, down halls he knew better than any home he’d ever lived in. Almost immediately they encountered a trio of enforcers from the Tenth, men Tomas had known for years, men he had hand-picked to join the elite unit.

  “Fall in,” Tomas ordered, without slowing.

  After only a brief hesitation, they did so.

  By the time Domenico led the way into the Tenth’s barracks in the rear of the building on the ground floor, their party had swelled to a dozen men. Twenty more men fell in behind, open curiosity on many faces. Tomas was relieved to see few showed open resentment toward him. Maybe he had a chance after all.

  Anaru’s office was a simple room, the decorations even more spartan than when Tomas had occupied the space. Anaru sat behind a desk that looked too small for his massive frame, eyes fixed on his computer monitor.

  He glanced up when Domenico and Tomas entered the office, then surged to his feet, his expression angry.

  “How’d you catch this traitor?”

  “Catch isn’t the way I’d put it,” Tomas said, stopping beside Domenico. The rest of the enforcers clustered around the doorway, silently watching. “We need to talk.”

  “We’re beyond talking,” Anaru said, rounding the desk. He seemed even bigger than Tomas remembered, his natural giant Maori genes enhanced to the uttermost. He stood several inches taller than Tomas and weighed at least eighty pounds of dense muscle heavier. “Domenico, why didn’t you deliver him to Shahrokh as ordered?”

  The much shorter Italian enforcer stood proud. “Because you have to hear what this man has to say.”

  “The words of traitors mean nothing to me,” Anaru said, stopping a couple paces away from Tomas.

  “The council’s in danger,” Tomas said

  “And you’ve been declared rogue,” Anaru reminded him. “You no longer hold sway here.”

  “Listen to the captain,” Domenico insisted.

  “I’m the captain,” Anaru shouted “Don’t you ever forget it!”

  “Then act like a captain,” Tomas snapped. “And deal with the real threat.”

  “You are the threat,” Anaru said, taking a menacing step forward. “You’re in league with Gregorios, and you stole the machine that would have restored the council’s strength.”

  That generated a ripple of low murmurs from the watching enforcers.

  Tomas kept his gaze locked on Anaru’s. “And yet, here you stand, working with Cui Dashi and heka, granting them free access to the council. Who’s the greater traitor.”

  “I’ve kept my honor,” Anaru shouted. “I’ve obeyed every command.”

  “Some commands are wrong,” Tomas replied, trying to keep calm. He needed to sway Anaru to his side, but the big man’s long-standing resentment was a high hurdle Tomas wasn’t sure he could overcome. “A good captain knows the difference and knows when the deeper oath has to supersede.”

  “Some decisions are not in my hands,” Anaru said a little less belligerently. “You know that better than anyone.”

  “I do,” Tomas agreed. He turned toward the watching enforcers. “But this is a critical moment. You all know me. You know my heart and my honor. Do you really think I’d risk coming here if I didn’t feel this situation required all of us to stand together like never before?”

  “You left us,” Anaru said. “You abandoned your command, the post you held longer than any other captain, as if it meant nothing.”

  His anger was back. Tomas didn’t blam
e him. He’d recruited Anaru personally years before, oversaw the mighty warrior’s training, groomed him for eventual command. Anaru had grown impatient when he realized he’d never win the coveted captain’s post, and had challenged Tomas for the position. Only weeks after defeating Anaru, Tomas had received the call from Gregorios and made the difficult decision to leave the Tenth to help hunt for Eirene.

  “You see how bad things are,” Tomas said. “I saw the council fading, saw them instituting policies that would destroy everything they’d work so hard to implement. I left to help Gregorios, who was the one man who might set things right.”

  “By your own confession, I’m within my rights to execute you right here,” Anaru said, hand dropping to his pistol.

  “Don’t let your personal feelings cloud the issue,” Tomas said. “You swore an oath, and it wasn’t an oath to hate me.”

  “I swore an oath to serve and to protect,” Anaru agreed. “And I’ve kept my honor.”

  “If you turn me in, if you support the council’s decision to submit to Mai Luan, you’ll be making a mockery of that oath, and helping the very enemies we’ve sworn to stand against destroy the leaders we’ve sworn to protect.”

  A fresh ripple of murmurs ran through the assembled enforcers. Everyone understood the danger, although perhaps not as clearly as Tomas. They all knew enough to realize welcoming Cui Dashi and heka into the headquarters could only end badly.

  Anaru was the key. The other enforcers would obey his command, despite personal reservations. The captain made the decisions and carried the weight of responsibility.

  “My orders are clear,” Anaru said. “I cannot countermand them.”

  “Then I’ll have to,” Tomas said.

  “You challenge me?” Anaru asked, his eyes lighting with anticipation.

  “I do.”