Nefertiti’s Curse: An Urban Fantasy Page 18
A grinning Asian man in his early fifties slipped into the empty seat across from Xavier and placed his travel bag on the table.
“Don’t you think this is a bit much?” Xavier asked him.
“I think,” the man said in English with a Chinese accent, “that your dim-witted American security forces who earn less than half of what you pay your politicians could not stop a real threat even if he stepped off the plane wearing a Terrorist With Attitude t-shirt. I believe the English term for it is Security Theater.”
“And conjuring false sightings of people on the Terror Watch List doesn’t have anything to do with that?”
“No Chinese security team would be fooled by such a tactic.”
Xavier just shook his head. “Zuìjìn hǎo ma?”
“Your Mandarin is much improved, my friend! I am well. Now take me someplace where I may eat cheesesteaks and throw small denominations of currency at strippers.”
Dao-Ming Shih Chang was a grand master of an ancient order of wizards based in Mainland China. By all accounts, he was a powerful user of magic. He was also a prankster, a relentless flirt and a dissident with a penchant for antagonizing institutions of authority, including his own order.
For reasons Xavier did not completely grasp, he was one of Isabella’s closest allies.
Xavier and Dao-Ming stepped onto an airport elevator, followed by a Caucasian couple toting rolling suitcases. After the doors closed, Dao-Ming winked at the woman, who was at least three inches taller than him.
“She wants me,” he said loudly.
The woman looked down at him. “In your dreams.”
“Hey, you,” Dao-Ming said to the man accompanying the woman. “Tell your girlfriend that we’re all the same height in bed.”
The man took a menacing step in Dao-Ming’s direction, but Xavier came between them.
“Sir, I apologize. He’s not from here.”
“Well, you better teach him some manners fast or he won’t be from anywhere. And take your hands off me.”
The doors opened on the couple’s floor. They glared at Dao-Ming at they stepped out.
Before the doors closed behind them, the woman turned and said, “Douche bag.”
“Did you get a beacon on the female?” Xavier asked.
Dao-ming nodded.
The man and woman who had just departed where DSO agents who had been following Xavier since he had arrived at the airport.
When the doors opened again, someone tossed in a live hand grenade.
Dao-Ming reacted immediately, cupping his hands and murmuring a phrase in Mandarin.
The grenade vanished, returning to the hand which had tossed it.
A second later the parking garage outside the elevator was rocked by a loud explosion.
Screams and car alarms echoed off the cement walls.
“Get down!” Dao-Ming shouted just before the roar of automatic weapons fire began.
Xavier dove into a corner of the elevator.
A few rounds hit the back wall of the elevator before the cacophony abruptly muted.
Xavier looked up to find a shimmering wall of red light covering the elevator opening. White flashes popped where bullets struck it. It was quickly fading from red to orange.
Dao-Ming was pressed against the opposite wall, his palms glowing red and his face a mask of concentration.
Xavier’s ears were ringing so badly he could barely hear Dao-Ming say, “Close your eyes!”
After a moment of hesitation, he followed the wizard’s instructions. He felt a warm sensation just before he was overwhelmed by drowsiness.
In a remote section of the Amazon Rainforest, birds took to the air and monkeys howled when Xavier’s sleeping body materialized on the forest floor.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Washington, DC
Colonel Curtis Rahn picked up his desk phone. “Rhan here.”
“We did it, Sir!” the DSO analyst on the other end said excitedly.
“Did what, son?”
“We found the method The Disrupter is using to locate his targets.”
The Disrupter was the official DSO code name for Baynin.
“On my way,” Rahn said.
A half hour later Rahn sat in the DSO’s Tactical Operations Center listening to the end of a presentation about how his staff had matched Baynin’s travel patterns to the orbital coverage of three spy satellites operated by the United States and Russia.
“The subject,” a DSO analyst explained, “displays a high interest in targets located within the Self Governance Zone.” A map of Greater Philadelphia appeared on the bank of video monitors covering the room’s southern wall. “So, we cross-referenced the movements of all hostiles in the SGZ to the NSA’s Omnivore database. We found that hostile number 414, A-K-A Xavier Hill, paid three visits to the office of a civilian named Preston Tiptree in the last month.”
“Isn’t that the V Shades guy?” Rahn asked.
“That’s correct, Sir. Tiptree holds the patent and master retail license for the EMV light filter behind the V Shades retail brand.”
“How much is he worth?”
The speaker, accustomed to Rahn’s preoccupation with the financial holdings of their investigation subjects, accepted a sheet of paper from another analyst.
“As of yesterday, he had $416,188.17 in a checking account at Bank of America and securities worth $342,808 in an account at Goldman Sachs.”
“That’s it? I see those glasses everywhere.”
“Well, he lost a significant portion of his assets in his divorce and payments to settle five libel lawsuits.”
“Five?”
“That’s what it says here.”
“How much is his ex worth?”
The analyst accepted a different sheet of paper. “She has a net worth of $14,988,602, including approximately $9 million in cash across 4 checking accounts. She also gets the lion’s share of the royalties from the V licensing agreement with Ray Bahn.”
“Christ almighty,” Rahn said. “Somebody remind me to stop and get my wife some flowers on the way home. Let’s get back to the satellites.”
“Of course, Sir. In Two Thousand Four, Tiptree tried to publish a white paper about modulating EMV filters to detect the electromagnetic emissions of ghosts and other Type I apparitions. The scientific community ridiculed the paper and refused to publish it, but the DSO built a prototype of the device and conducted three successful field tests in Two Thousand Seven.”
“I remember that,” Rahn said. “We dropped the project because the following year was an election year and we couldn’t get the White House to put a line item in the D-O-D budget for fifty thousand pairs of V shades.”
“As you said, Sir, the pilot project was abandoned, but we still had the film from the field tests in our vaults.” He clicked his laser pointer. “When we placed that film over the feed from one of the satellites, we got this.”
A map of the world overlaid with thousands of dots in multiple colors appeared on the wall screen.
“The yellow dots represent the location of known hostiles. The red dots represent the original location of the hostiles who received the subject’s toxin. And the green dots represent the location of likely future targets, including more than four thousand hostiles that were previously unknown to us or our sister agencies in the NATO Alliance.”
Rahn smiled. “Ladies and Gentleman, that is what you call a target rich environment.”
Then he squinted. “Magnify Region One-A.”
The screen zoomed in on Washington, DC.
“Magnify again, times ten, center here.”
The screen zoomed in further.
“Why are there two green dots on this building?”
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
The employees of the secluded equestrian center behind’s Isabella’s house had been told they were receiving two weeks paid vacation to allow the facility could complete some urgent repairs.
“Is the airport still standing?” Isabella asked.
“Most of it,” Dao-Ming said.
“Should we expect pursuit?”
“It will take them days to realize the body they recovered is not me. They will have to request my dental records from Beijing.”
“Xavier?”
“As we discussed.”
“And the other preparations?”
“My apprentice has seen to them.”
“I owe you a great debt.”
“Ba,” he said. “A cloud may not owe a raindrop.”
They watched Vinicus switch from bow to spear.
“Do you remember the day we met?” Dao-Ming asked.
“I remember striking you across the face after you whispered in my ear.”
“Ah. The Dao-Ming of thirty years ago had an affection for indelicate words.”
“That sounds very much like the Dao-Ming of today.”
“There is certainly truth in that statement, but I wish to draw your attention to a point a little earlier in the evening. Do you recall what you said to my master when you found him wearing a defeated expression like the one you are wearing now?”
“I told him that five years from then he would not be able to recall why he had been sad five years ago.”
“Yes. You have the memory of a goddess. I must confess that I initially considered these words to be what Americans call psychobabble. Master Chen was a Grand Wizard of The House of Twelve Dragons. If one such as this found reason to despair, then who could question it? But as I have grown in age and wisdom, I have learned that you were reminding him that the mind is like a flower which prunes its own leaves. As I stand here today, I have no recollection of what may have been upsetting me five years ago. If I may be so bold old friend, I wish to offer your own advice.”
“If I am being honest,” she said, “I fear that none of us will remain in five years to forget.”
“I do not understand this fear. You have an agreement with your government to expand your rights. Your scientists have found a way to counteract Baynin’s fruit. The leader of your enemy visits your home to worship at your feet. Your spies listen at every doorway.”
She handed him a small transparent vial containing a desiccated brown plant.
“What is this?”
“That is the truth vine I exposed to the air of my pocket when we met with Robert Landon.”
Everything Landon had told them was a lie.
“I see,” Dao-Ming said as he leaned on the fence.
Isabella looked over at him. “This is the part where you are supposed to comfort me with encouraging words.”
“I do not know if they will comfort you, but I am certain that five years from now the normals will wonder what they were thinking in making an enemy of you.”
She smiled. He always knew what to say.
Dao-Ming nodded toward Vinicus, who was expertly twirling a spear in one hand and a broadsword in the other. “He is impressive.”
“Yes, quite.”
“But he did not really come here to rent a house.”
“No.”
“There was an old saying Master Chen used to tell me about his kind.”
Isabella said, “Where goeth the Stallion of War, war doth follow.”
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
Washington, DC
Carlos could not remember having a single pleasant meeting at the Pentagon. He only seemed to be summoned here for excoriation. And it took forever to get where you were going.
After passing through four security checkpoints, he arrived at Bob Landon’s office, where he found Senator Elaine Waldren and DSO deputy director Curtis Rahn speaking quietly with the Secretary.
He tapped a few screens on his Apple Watch. “Did my secretary get the time wrong?”
“Have a seat, Carlos,” Landon said.
He took the middle seat. “Elaine. Curtis.”
Rahn said nothing.
“Hello Carlos,” Elaine said cheerily. “I’m hosting a TED talk at my resort in Sulphur Springs next month. You should come.”
That was her way of letting him know that he was about to be fired, but not arrested.
“You know I can’t say no to you.”
“The task force that you’re overseeing in Philadelphia is terminated, as of now,” Landon said.
“With all due respect, Sir,” Carlos said, “we’re right on the verge of a breakthrough. If we could have a little more time, I’m confident we can neutralize the current threat.”
“Who is the we you’re referring to, soldier?”
Carlos had never been a soldier of any kind, but he knew that was a verbal tick the Secretary adopted when he was angry. “As I said in my report, the Task Force is a joint effort between the DSO and the team who voluntarily provided the specimen we needed to get this far.”
“And here I thought Elaine was the only politician in the room,” Landon said. “No offense, Madame Senator.”
“None taken, Mr. Secretary.”
Landon turned to Rahn. “When we’re done here, have all of our people on the Task Force called back immediately.”
“Yes, Sir,” Rahn said.
“Sir,” Carlos said, “I think that’s a call I should make.”
“I’ve had enough of your calls,” Landon said.
“Is this about the satellite detection system?” Carlos asked.
“You mean the detection system that you falsely informed my predecessor was ineffective?”
“It was ineffective for the original use case.”
“That’s not true, Mr. Secretary,” Rahn said.
Carlos glared at his deputy. “We can discuss this offline, Curtis.”
“You’re not discussing anything offline,” Landon said to Carlos. “You’re relieved of duty, effective immediately. If our investigation reveals that you knowingly employed hostiles or gave them access to classified information, duty is not the only thing you’ll be relieved of.”
“Sir, I request twenty-four hours to arrange a smooth transition of my duties.”
Landon turned red. He opened a folder on his desk and snatched up a photo of Yefet sitting on Carlos’s lap as she posed for a selfie. “You mean duties like this?”
“Sir, I can explain—”
Landon reached for another photo. This one captured Carlos with his hand on Xavier’s shoulder as he left Isabella’s house, who was in the background wearing a revealing robe. “Or duties like this?”
Carlos looked over at Rahn, who was smirking.
Landon pressed a button on his desk. Two military police officers entered the room.
“Carlos give these officers your badge, your phone and your ElectriShield ring. They’ll escort you to a debriefing room to get your strike authorization codes. Don’t leave Washington.”
“Give him one day, Bob,” Elaine said. “I’ll be responsible for him.”
Rahn leaned forward in his chair. “Sir, I recommend that you predicate that approval on Mr. Vasquez providing us the exact whereabouts of former special agent Michelle Lathan.”
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
Michelle was running full speed down a crowded street.
Ten minutes earlier, when he had pretended to check his smartwatch outside Landon’s office, Carlos had sent her a text message with an emergency code. That was the only reason she hadn’t still been in her hotel room when the team of DSO field agents kicked in the door.
She was headed south toward the Historic District.
When she leaned against a pole of a traffic light at 6th and Chestnut to catch her breath, she heard a male voice shout, “Agent Lathan! Stay where you are.”
She looked up to see two officers from the National
Park Police running toward her with weapons drawn.
The throng of tourists on the corner backed away from her like she was radioactive.
She sprinted east down Chestnut. She made it to 4th street before a Philadelphia Police Cruiser slammed to a stop directly in front of her. She collided with the vehicle hard enough to dent the door. She bounced back and fell to the ground, clutching at her right kneecap.
An officer leapt from the vehicle, service pistol pointed straight ahead. He sidestepped toward the trunk. “Don’t move!”
The officer’s partner exited the cruiser from the other side and ran toward the front of the vehicle to block any avenue of escape.
Michelle began to scream out an ancient sailing song.
Guns, plates, briefcases and steering wheels fell away from the hands of every adult male within a quarter mile radius as they covered their ears to blunt the piercing auditory pain of her siren shout.
Car crashes and screams reverberated for blocks.
Michelle got to her feet and limped toward the alley as quickly as she could, praying that no father in the vicinity had been holding a baby. She looked back to see that her only remaining pursuer was a female Park Police officer.
She ducked down an alleyway midway between 3rd and 4th that led to Carpenter’s Historic Hall, where the first Continental Congress had gathered. She stopped just to the right of the fifth doorway. She had to count twice to find the seventeenth brick from the ground, which she shoved into the wall. Water and air hissed from the bottom of the false stone pedestal below the door. She got on her knees and pushed the pedestal away from the entrance just enough to slide down into the tunnel hidden beneath it. She used a thick rope to pull the pedestal back in place. She ignored the rusted oil lamp hanging on the wall, preferring the light from the flash bulb on her phone’s rear camera.
She rushed down the passage built for runaway slaves.
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
The Pine Barrens
Astrid sat alone in a conference room lit by natural sunlight that shone through invisible panels set in the forest floor above her.