“So how do we look?” Ravyn bounced and twirled before pulling her best Vanna White pose pointing to the similarly attired Zenny Al Farhan standing next to her.
Both women were dressed in all black, from the snug, form-fitting black hoodies to the soft-soled black leather boots that came half way up the shins of their sleek, black lycra-laced tights. Each of them also wore a military style black nylon utility belt that held closed pouches of varying sizes and shapes.
Ravyn’s hair had been pulled back into the long pony-tail that was customary when she was expecting action. Her normally bright and smiling face had been smudged with some sort of dark charcoal-like substance that only dulled her natural radiance. A pair of fine, black deerskin gloves was stuffed into her belt.
Zenny’s face had also been darkened with the same substance, clouding her fine features from easy recognition. In addition to the hood on her sweatshirt, her hair and ears were obscured by a dark blue hijab that had been wrapped tightly and pinned into place to prevent it from slipping loose.
Jim turned to admire their handiwork and whistled in appreciation. “Wow, I think I can verify those ‘health club’ expenses now.”
Zenny looked down at her shuffling feet in embarrassment.
Ravyn took the compliment in style as she sidled up to Jim, hopped up on the seat of the chair next to him and planted a peck on his cheek. “You ought to know better by now, dear, than to question my expense sheets!” She dropped back down to ground level and danced away before Jim could recover.
Her smooch left a smudge of charcoal on his cheek that only smeared further as he touched the spot, slightly red-faced.
“I like working out, it makes me happy and you know Jim, that there are all sorts of side benefits to making me happy.” Her wink to me as she skipped back over to Zenny showed me that she knew exactly how her flirting would affect him. “C’mon Zenny, let’s go grab a bite to eat and let these guys recover from our radiance.”
I shook my head, smiling as the gals slipped back towards the kitchen. “I’m still not sure that taking Zenny is a good idea. She’s suffered through so much. I’d hate to be responsible for something else happening to her.”
Jim was wiping the charcoal off his cheek with a clean handkerchief. “Well, she’s the one who volunteered. We can’t keep holding her back from things that she wants to try just because they might be dangerous. Besides, her talents could prove to be very useful in finding the clues to where El Diablito is hiding the core of his new organization.”
“Yeah, I know all of that. But I still can’t get the images of the way I found her in that house in the desert out of my mind. She wished that she had died.”
Jim nodded. “True enough. She didn’t die, though. Ravyn and the Frau have spent a lot of time and energy getting her back on her feet. She’s a very strong woman, Rusty. She’s healed from those wounds. Ravyn wouldn’t let her go if she didn’t think Zenny was up to the challenge.”
I held up my hands in surrender. “OK, you win, again. So how confident are you in these addresses that we are going to go check out?”
Jim reached into his pocket and pulled out a paper, unfolded it and handed it to me. There were four addresses listed on it.
“This first address is the corporate headquarters for the Mercury-Unlimited Group in the Bahamas. That is where Dick Arnold has at least an office for himself. It is an office building that has been built within the last year under very tight security on privately owned land, so we don’t have any eyewitness accounts just yet. It’s still too new to have had many ex-employees working inside of it, and the security was too tight to come up with any actionable intelligence. Ravyn and her people have tried to scry inside, but they’ve been blocked by some sort of magickal shield.”
I nodded. “They’ve using Caster as well.”
Jim grunted in agreement and pointed to the second address. “This one is the US headquarters for Bone Financial in Delaware. This building is also brand new and someone or something is shielding it as well, but we have a little more information on the lay out of that building, thanks to the local zoning commission. Ravyn has that information with her.”
“These last two address, they look familiar. Where have I seen them before?”
“You should recognize both addresses. The first, 25343 Covington Way, was the address that Nick was going to visit in the memory orb that you just viewed. It’s in a suburb of Atlanta. We would like you guys to investigate that location and see if you can discern what portals may be in use there and if you can activate them.
“That last address is El Diablito’s shop in Hialeah, NextWorld. It has been supposedly closed down for the last year or so, but who knows, there still may be something of use there.”
Hearing the name NextWorld brought back a rush of memories of that first, fateful visit to that place in South Florida where I first received my Chakra. I had met El Diablito for the first time that night. He had drugged me into a stupor with that tea he had made and used that opportunity to bind my Spirit form to that damnable device that kept me imprisoned in this unfeeling body after I had been killed.
I smiled. “Yes, I’d like to see that place again.”
Jim held up his hands. “Whoa there, Rusty. Remember, this is a scouting mission that we hope ends with us in possession of a few items and a lot more information about Bone Financial and the principles involved in all of this, we’re not looking for a confrontation, unless it can’t be avoided.”
“Yeah, I know. I’ll try to be good.”
“I’ve seen that look before…”
Ravyn’s voice cut through Jim’s softer tones. “And so have I.” She stalked up to me, leaving the somewhat befuddled Zenny behind. Her finger was wagging as quickly as she was talking. “We’re going to slip in, grab what we need and slip out with as little disturbance as possible, do you hear me?”
I nodded, backing up a step and holding my hands up in surrender. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Get this through that thick Zombie skull of yours—this is no foolhardy revenge strike against an old enemy. We’ll fight if we have to, but we need to know more about our foe before we go blundering into battle.”
Backed up against the far wall by this time, I dropped my arms and looked down. “Alright already. I’ll be good!”
She gave me one more of those looks, dropped her finger and turned to face Jim and Zenny. “OK then, are we just about ready?” Her tone was a sweet and light as it had been when she had been teasing Jim earlier.
Sunday, January 28, 2007
Saturday, January 20, 2007
A Mole's View...Part 2
With a cold kiss to Nick’s cheek and feral smile, Rose spun around and started walking towards the dark doorway in the far side of the vast rooms. Halfway back, she paused long enough to throw an inviting look over her shoulder and motion with the index finger of her right hand that Nick should ‘come hither’.
“Bring your little toy. My masters will be very interested in seeing it.”
Nick grunted and reached down to scoop up his CoonBot in one hand and the empty backpack in the other. He stuffed the critter and the controller into the pack as he followed this strange woman towards the door.
When Rose reached the door, she turned back one more time. “When you step through the Shadow this time, Nick, look for the door that has a likeness of my name on it, otherwise you will find yourself going somewhere you may well regret.” Her eyes narrowed as she spoke, her voice lowered and became quite sultry. “Do you understand?”
The whole view shook up and down as Nick nodded once. “Yeah, I’ve been through such portals before. I’ll watch for your door, babe. I’m not here to fool around. Lead the way.”
Rose shook her head and laughed. It was a deep throaty sound from someone with such a high-pitched nasal voice. “No, I’m afraid I will not be going with you on this journey Nick, I have other applicants that I must sort through. My job is not yet done tonight. You should know though, that everything that you have said here has been seen and heard by those that you are about to meet, so you don’t need to go through any unnecessary formalities with them.”
“Who am I going to be meeting?”
She smiled in response. “They will introduce themselves if they so choose.”
“I don’t know babe, there sure seems to be a lot of cloak and dagger funny business to this job. I thought I was through with that kind of thing years ago.”
She leaned up close to Nick again, her hand drifting from his shoulder down past his elbow before slipping further down and behind him to grab his ass. Her fingernails left chills wherever she touched him, raising goose bumps on his bare skin. “We have to be very careful Nick. We have some very powerful enemies who may be trying even now to infiltrate us.” Her eyes seemed to bore right through Nick’s and into mine. It was like she was speaking directly to me instead of Nick. “But the rewards of working with us are much richer than those of our enemies.”
Nick pushed her away with his free hand, hoisted his backpack with the other. “Alright then, let me go meet these masters of yours. I like rich rewards.”
He stepped through the door before she could respond.
The Shadow swallowed him, causing the image to go all black once again. Before long though, Nick’s vision adjusted to the dark hues and subtle variations of the Shadowland. He found himself in a long hallway with several doors on each side and he shuffled down it.
Each door had some sort of emblem on it. He paused by each on that he passed. The first door on the right was marked with a small green palm tree made of sparkling emeralds. The next door, on the left this time, was marked with a white tulip made out what might have been diamonds. The third door, still on the left side of the hall was marked by a softly glowing rose made of rubies.
Nick reached out and touched the rubies, perhaps to see if they were real or not, pulled his hand back when the door and the rubies faded out of existence, to leave only a darker shade of black shadow in its place. Another portal to step through. Nick stepped through it.
When the blackness faded away again, Nick found himself standing in a bare stone chamber with no windows or other obvious exits. “What the fuck?”
He swung around to the look for the exit again, only to find that the shadowy door had transformed into a steel door with a small barred window that was solidly shut.
He dropped the backpack to the floor and reached out with both strong hands to grab at the door. Using all of his strength to push at the door, he managed only to rattle it slightly in place.
“Hey, what the fuck is going on here? Why am I in a jail cell?”
Footsteps echoed on stone as someone approached from down a hall towards the cell.
Nick called out again. “Hey who’s out there?”
The footsteps continued to grow louder as whoever it was came closer.
“Let me out of this place!”
A small, round face of an older man with a maniacal eyes peeked through the bars at Nick. It was the face of a man I could never forget. El Diablito.
He cackled in his high-pitched voice. “So, Nicholas. You’ve come to spy on me for our friends, the ORC’s? I don’t like spies very much, Nicholas.”
“I don’t know what you are talking about, man!” There was a hint of desperation in Nick’s deep voice. He was clearly flustered and surprised.
“Oh, I don’t think that is being quite truthful, Nicholas. I have my own spies you know. I happen to know that you were sent by my adversaries among the ORC’s and that you are trying to work under cover to investigate me and my new organizations. I will not tolerate such attempts on my livelihood.”
“Look man, I don’t even know who the Hell you are and what your organizations are. I just heard about someone who might be hiring Casters with unique skills. I’m tired of making cabinets. I want to make some serious money.”
El Diablito cackled again. “Nice try young man. But I am not as easily fooled as poor Rose there. She’s a useful tool, but she has her limitations. You cannot deceive me with your fake protestations of innocence.”
Nick’s shoulders slumped and his view shifted from the door to the floor for a moment as he seemed to give up. He looked back up into the face of his captor. “OK, so what are you going to do with me?”
El Diablito smiled. “Oh, I’m going to let you live. I want your current masters to know that they cannot catch me as easily as they think that they can. I want them to see what they are going to be going up against when decide to make their move. So, as soon as I have extracted all of the information I need from you, I shall be releasing you with enough memories to make a fine little show to Ms. Fyre and her cohorts.” His eyes narrowed and his face and tone grew more serious. “And Nicholas, when you tire of working for a pittance, risking your life and limb for such a ‘noble cause’ and you instead wish to apply your obvious talents towards enriching yourself and your family, I want you to come back and see me. Know this, however, that I will know what it is that you intend in your heart better than you. If you return to me while trying to deceive me again, I will leave you in Rose’s bedroom here for her to do with as she pleases. Trust me, that will not be a very pleasant fate. That poor creature has needs that will leave you a ruined husk of a man once they have been fulfilled. And you would not be able to resist fulfilling those needs either.”
The recording stopped and the images faded away.
I looked up to see Jim standing there looking at a book from one of his many packed shelves. “I’ve been wondering when I would find time to read this thing.”
“El Diablito is recruiting these Casters? He must have some moles of his own inside our…I mean your…organization.”
He nodded soberly as he put the book back into its slot. “After Ravyn and the Frau recovered these memories from Nick and helped him return to a semblance of his normal self, he disappeared. We’re not sure where he is right now.”
“Maybe he took up El Diablito on his offer.”
Jim shrugged. “That’s certainly possible. Or El Diablito could have had one of his agents eliminate him once his purpose had been served. We don’t know just yet.”
“How much more information did the Little Devil collect from Nick about the ORC’s?”
Jim shook his head. “Nick didn’t have a lot of connections within the organization. He probably didn’t learn much from him that he didn’t already know. But we’re more concerned about Nick than we are about what he gave up about us.”
“I think my decision on which enemy to focus on has been made. I hate that little asshole almost as much as I hated Drake. He also knows too much about Alexa and Naomi. He needs to be dealt with, soon.”
“Bring your little toy. My masters will be very interested in seeing it.”
Nick grunted and reached down to scoop up his CoonBot in one hand and the empty backpack in the other. He stuffed the critter and the controller into the pack as he followed this strange woman towards the door.
When Rose reached the door, she turned back one more time. “When you step through the Shadow this time, Nick, look for the door that has a likeness of my name on it, otherwise you will find yourself going somewhere you may well regret.” Her eyes narrowed as she spoke, her voice lowered and became quite sultry. “Do you understand?”
The whole view shook up and down as Nick nodded once. “Yeah, I’ve been through such portals before. I’ll watch for your door, babe. I’m not here to fool around. Lead the way.”
Rose shook her head and laughed. It was a deep throaty sound from someone with such a high-pitched nasal voice. “No, I’m afraid I will not be going with you on this journey Nick, I have other applicants that I must sort through. My job is not yet done tonight. You should know though, that everything that you have said here has been seen and heard by those that you are about to meet, so you don’t need to go through any unnecessary formalities with them.”
“Who am I going to be meeting?”
She smiled in response. “They will introduce themselves if they so choose.”
“I don’t know babe, there sure seems to be a lot of cloak and dagger funny business to this job. I thought I was through with that kind of thing years ago.”
She leaned up close to Nick again, her hand drifting from his shoulder down past his elbow before slipping further down and behind him to grab his ass. Her fingernails left chills wherever she touched him, raising goose bumps on his bare skin. “We have to be very careful Nick. We have some very powerful enemies who may be trying even now to infiltrate us.” Her eyes seemed to bore right through Nick’s and into mine. It was like she was speaking directly to me instead of Nick. “But the rewards of working with us are much richer than those of our enemies.”
Nick pushed her away with his free hand, hoisted his backpack with the other. “Alright then, let me go meet these masters of yours. I like rich rewards.”
He stepped through the door before she could respond.
The Shadow swallowed him, causing the image to go all black once again. Before long though, Nick’s vision adjusted to the dark hues and subtle variations of the Shadowland. He found himself in a long hallway with several doors on each side and he shuffled down it.
Each door had some sort of emblem on it. He paused by each on that he passed. The first door on the right was marked with a small green palm tree made of sparkling emeralds. The next door, on the left this time, was marked with a white tulip made out what might have been diamonds. The third door, still on the left side of the hall was marked by a softly glowing rose made of rubies.
Nick reached out and touched the rubies, perhaps to see if they were real or not, pulled his hand back when the door and the rubies faded out of existence, to leave only a darker shade of black shadow in its place. Another portal to step through. Nick stepped through it.
When the blackness faded away again, Nick found himself standing in a bare stone chamber with no windows or other obvious exits. “What the fuck?”
He swung around to the look for the exit again, only to find that the shadowy door had transformed into a steel door with a small barred window that was solidly shut.
He dropped the backpack to the floor and reached out with both strong hands to grab at the door. Using all of his strength to push at the door, he managed only to rattle it slightly in place.
“Hey, what the fuck is going on here? Why am I in a jail cell?”
Footsteps echoed on stone as someone approached from down a hall towards the cell.
Nick called out again. “Hey who’s out there?”
The footsteps continued to grow louder as whoever it was came closer.
“Let me out of this place!”
A small, round face of an older man with a maniacal eyes peeked through the bars at Nick. It was the face of a man I could never forget. El Diablito.
He cackled in his high-pitched voice. “So, Nicholas. You’ve come to spy on me for our friends, the ORC’s? I don’t like spies very much, Nicholas.”
“I don’t know what you are talking about, man!” There was a hint of desperation in Nick’s deep voice. He was clearly flustered and surprised.
“Oh, I don’t think that is being quite truthful, Nicholas. I have my own spies you know. I happen to know that you were sent by my adversaries among the ORC’s and that you are trying to work under cover to investigate me and my new organizations. I will not tolerate such attempts on my livelihood.”
“Look man, I don’t even know who the Hell you are and what your organizations are. I just heard about someone who might be hiring Casters with unique skills. I’m tired of making cabinets. I want to make some serious money.”
El Diablito cackled again. “Nice try young man. But I am not as easily fooled as poor Rose there. She’s a useful tool, but she has her limitations. You cannot deceive me with your fake protestations of innocence.”
Nick’s shoulders slumped and his view shifted from the door to the floor for a moment as he seemed to give up. He looked back up into the face of his captor. “OK, so what are you going to do with me?”
El Diablito smiled. “Oh, I’m going to let you live. I want your current masters to know that they cannot catch me as easily as they think that they can. I want them to see what they are going to be going up against when decide to make their move. So, as soon as I have extracted all of the information I need from you, I shall be releasing you with enough memories to make a fine little show to Ms. Fyre and her cohorts.” His eyes narrowed and his face and tone grew more serious. “And Nicholas, when you tire of working for a pittance, risking your life and limb for such a ‘noble cause’ and you instead wish to apply your obvious talents towards enriching yourself and your family, I want you to come back and see me. Know this, however, that I will know what it is that you intend in your heart better than you. If you return to me while trying to deceive me again, I will leave you in Rose’s bedroom here for her to do with as she pleases. Trust me, that will not be a very pleasant fate. That poor creature has needs that will leave you a ruined husk of a man once they have been fulfilled. And you would not be able to resist fulfilling those needs either.”
The recording stopped and the images faded away.
I looked up to see Jim standing there looking at a book from one of his many packed shelves. “I’ve been wondering when I would find time to read this thing.”
“El Diablito is recruiting these Casters? He must have some moles of his own inside our…I mean your…organization.”
He nodded soberly as he put the book back into its slot. “After Ravyn and the Frau recovered these memories from Nick and helped him return to a semblance of his normal self, he disappeared. We’re not sure where he is right now.”
“Maybe he took up El Diablito on his offer.”
Jim shrugged. “That’s certainly possible. Or El Diablito could have had one of his agents eliminate him once his purpose had been served. We don’t know just yet.”
“How much more information did the Little Devil collect from Nick about the ORC’s?”
Jim shook his head. “Nick didn’t have a lot of connections within the organization. He probably didn’t learn much from him that he didn’t already know. But we’re more concerned about Nick than we are about what he gave up about us.”
“I think my decision on which enemy to focus on has been made. I hate that little asshole almost as much as I hated Drake. He also knows too much about Alexa and Naomi. He needs to be dealt with, soon.”
Sunday, January 14, 2007
A Mole's View...Part 1
I put the second orb into my jacket pocket. There would be plenty of time learn more about the ORC’s themselves later on.
I held the first orb, the one from the mole, in my hand and spoke the password. “Betsy.”
Immediately, I felt like I was swept up in a vortex of swirling colors, like being inside of a kaleidoscope that was being adjusted by an over-excited 5 year old child. I suppose it would have been quiet disorienting if I had a stomach to empty, but that wasn’t a concern for me. Instead, I relaxed and let the images sort themselves out. It didn’t take very long.
The image coalesced into a view from the back seat of older taxi cab. The tinny sounds of Indian music played in the background. I could make out the back of the purple turban-covered head of the driver of the cab, a bearded Sikh man of middling years.
The cab was moving, but it was dark outside, so the passing images were the neon signs of fast food restaurants, gas stations and convenience stores that could be found on the outskirts of nearly every American town or city.
I tried to focus on details that might give me a better clue as to where the cab was, but I found that I was constrained to the view of the person who had made the orb itself. The images and sounds that the maker of the orb saw and heard were the only images and sounds that came through on this recording. Again, rather than fight the frustration of such a limited view of events, I sat back and relaxed, content to see and hear what the mole was able to show me.
The cabbie’s head bobbed to the rhythms of the music coming from his cassette deck. The mole, however, was only cursorily interested in him. The image kept shifting from the windshield ahead to the piece of paper in the mole’s rough fingers. An address and a phone number showed on the paper: 25343 Covington Way and 555-9832.
The mole glanced back up to the display on the dashboard showing fare adding up. $19.51.
“Hey up, how much further?” The voice of the mole was loud and deep.
The cabbie looked back at the mole in the mirror as he responded. “Not much further, Sir. You get where you go when Gurmeet drive you, no funny business, OK?”
When Gurmeet turned his attention back to the road, the mole caught a small glimpse of his own face in the mirror. It was a rough, masculine face. It was the face of a man who faced many hard times in his life and had overcome those challenges through sheer force of will and more than a little dishonesty. I had seen similar looks on the faces of hundreds of perpetrators that I had arrested as a cop. The icy blue eyes were framed by a prominent brow ridge that sported bushy blonde eyebrows. The nose was on the long side, with a slight hook to the right (left because of the mirror?). His thin lips were firmly pursed in a look of not-so-slight anger or agitation. His upper lip and cheeks showed the stubble of a couple of days gone without shaving, but the stubble wasn’t long enough to hide the long, puckered scar that ran from the left corner of his mouth almost all of the way to his ear. His skin also showed several pock marks from a history of terrible acne or some other skin disease.
Seeing his reflection in the mirror seemed to irritate the man even further, as his mouth twitched in anger as looked back at the tolling meter. $22.27.
“You told me the fare would be no more than $25. I’m going to hold you to that, Gurmeet.”
Gurmeet bobbed his head and chirped out a polite answer. “Yes, Sir, that is the price I quoted. You no pay more.”
The image bobbed as the mole nodded his agreement and grunted in response. He looked down to the paper in his hand one more time and watched as he crumpled it up and tossed it to the floor of the cab.
“Sir, we are pulling up now.”
Good to his word, Gurmeet had the left turn signal on and was cranking hard on the wheel to pull the cab into the unlit driveway of a large McMansion nestled in amongst its nearly identical fellows in an otherwise unremarkable suburban community.
The cab stopped on the sloped driveway. Gurmeet got out of the cab and opened the passenger door behind him. “You see, Gurmeet knows stuff. That will be $24.78, please.”
The mole got up out of the cab, grabbing his small, worn backpack with his right hand. With his left hand he pulled out the two bills that were in his pants pocket. “Here, keep the change, and buy yourself a new air freshener, will you?” The mole easily stood six inches taller than Gurmeet, who did not appear to be a small man himself.
Gurmeet looked down at the crumpled up twenties in his hand and nodded eagerly. “Thank you, Good Sir. Here is my card. You call me direct if you need a ride back to the airport. I give you good deal, OK?”
The mole nodded and grunted. “Sure. Good night, pal.”
The mole watched from the sidewalk as Gurmeet slammed his door shut and jumped back into the front. With a friendly wave, Gurmeet back out of the driveway and sped off back in the direction of the airport. The wailing of the sitars and the female singing her cries of long lost love dwindling into the night as the cab turned from Covington Way back towards the main road.
The mole hoisted his backpack onto his left shoulder, glanced at the address plate next to the double door and began walking around the side to the back door.
With the music from the cab now gone, the night air was quiet. As with all of the homes nearby, the yard was perfectly manicured, with the grass mowed to the standardized golf course length and the bushes and hedges all trimmed to look neat and uniform. There were a number of smaller trees scattered throughout the yards, but they were still too young to stand on their own. This was clearly a recent development. Many of the houses looked to still be unoccupied.
The mole made his way to the elevated back deck of the huge house. The sounds of his heavy boots thumping on the wooden steps seemed loud, but he didn’t hesitate. He tromped up to the sliding glass door and tested it to see if it was open. Once he discovered that it was locked, he tried to peer inside, but the darkness inside the home was even deeper than night outside. Grunting again, he rapped loudly on the glass with his right hand, a thick ring on his ring finger making the loudest crack on the glass.
At first nothing happened. Then a face appeared just inside the glass door, almost as if by magick. It was a thin face of a woman who had seen almost as many hard times as the mole. She looked him up and down, eyes darting back and forth as she seemed to be watching for others as well. Finally a pale hand emerged from the darkness beneath her face and clicked the lock on the door. She nodded towards the handle on the door before both hand and face evaporated back into the inky darkness inside.
He opened the door and slipped inside the home, also glancing back to make sure that he was alone and unseen.
The image from the orb went completely dark, like I experienced when calling the Shadow to use it for travel from place to place.
When the image returned, it was quite clear that the mole was not standing inside the dining room of a suburban McMansion, but was now inside a worn out industrial warehouse of some sort. The light came from flickering fluorescent bulbs swaying in a stiff breeze. Puddles of water reflected that dim light, echoing with the drips of more water that also came from above.
The thin woman stood in a plain blue jumpsuit and boots, her frazzled hair framing her anemic looking face. Her arms were crossed as if she had been waiting impatiently. She was alone in the large, abandoned looking room.
Her sharp, nasal voice cut through the air as she spoke. “Name?”
The mole looked her up and down, glanced about the room. His eyes took in the darkened doorways and halls leading from this rather large, empty room. “Nick, Nicholas Kolkiwiecz. Who’re you?”
“You may call me Rose. State your purpose here.”
The mole shrugged. “Look, I heard that this was the place to come if you have certain talents and are looking for work. I sure as Hell hope that I’m in the right damn place or I’m going to make someone pay for my trip out here. I need work, not extra expenses.”
Rose didn’t look all that impressed. She uncrossed her arms and took a couple of steps towards Nick. Her head titled slightly to the left and down as she spoke, a sly smile creeping over her plain, drawn face. Her eyes were perhaps her only attractive feature, as they were large, almond shaped and brown. The rest of her face was pale to the point of being almost sickly. Her thin eyebrows had been drawn in after having been shaved, plucked or waxed clean. Her nose was long and thin, ending in two flaring nostrils that showed the redness of a drug addict while her lips were thin and colorless. Her cheekbones nearly protruded through her pale skin.
“You’re in the right place if you are looking for work, but I need to make sure that you have the talent to make it worth the while of my masters for you to speak with them. What talents do you bring to this party, Nick?”
Her lips pulled back as she smiled. Her teeth glittered and gleamed in the dim light, reflecting off of the silver and gems that were set in them. Her canines were the most modified, having been lengthened and given a fang-like sharpness to them.
Nick nodded, standing his ground. “Good enough. I’m very talented with my hands.” He let the backpack slide to the ground and brought his hand to show Rose. His hands were thick with calluses, showing the obvious wear and tear of a person who worked with tools on a daily basis.
Rose came even close, touching his hand with hers. Her fingers ended in talon-like nails that were painted a bright red. Her touch must have been cold, because Nick flinched ever so slightly with her touch.
“That’s nice, Nick, but we don’t need any cabinets built here.” She stroked her fingers up and down his right hand, her nails leaving a slight trail of white marks where they passed. “The things we’re building require a bit more finesse than your hands seem to be capable of producing, if you know what I mean?” Her smile was only a few inches from his hand now.
“Look Lady, I only work with wood and metal when I need to, when I need to look like I make an honest living.” He pulled his hand back from her face as she ran a tongue over the gems in her upper teeth. “My talents lie with other, less conventional materials.”
“Oh, and just what might those be, dear Nick?” Her eyes ran up and down his body, as if she were she was very hungry and he was a great meal.
Nick knelt down to his backpack. “Step back now, Miss, I don’t want you to get hurt.” He reached into the pack and pulled out a small black controller with a knob and several buttons. He then flipped back the flap covering the opening and stood up.
Curious, Rose knelt down towards the pack despite Nick’s warning. “Show me what surprise you have for us.”
“Alright, but I warned you.”
Nick mashed a button with one of his fingers and the pack rustled as if something was coming alive.
Rose leaned closer.
Nick turned the knob on the controller and pressed another button. The thing in the backpack erupted from inside with a leap to land right in front of the startled Rose. It was a raccoon with glassy eyes and a permanent snarl to its face. As Nick manipulated the buttons and the knob, the creature moved with almost lifelike precision and speed.
Rose laughed with delight as she reached out to touch the fur. “It feels so life-like. Did you use real fur?”
Nick nodded. “It’s almost all real, from the bones and sinew to the fur. It’s a real raccoon.”
She marveled at the creature as he made it dance and maneuver around in front of her. “How does it move around?”
“That’s my little secret. Let me just say that you can’t buy it in stores. But my talents are for sale, if you know what I mean.”
Rose looked up from the zombified ‘coon and back up to Nick with a new kind of appreciation. “Can you do this with other creatures? Bigger creatures?”
Nick nodded again. “Yep, anything that’s got a body with bones, muscles and skin. The bigger they are, the easier they are to work with.”
Rose smiled again, this time it was the smile of someone who is pleasantly surprised. “I think, Nick, that you need to speak to my masters.”
(To be continued…)
I held the first orb, the one from the mole, in my hand and spoke the password. “Betsy.”
Immediately, I felt like I was swept up in a vortex of swirling colors, like being inside of a kaleidoscope that was being adjusted by an over-excited 5 year old child. I suppose it would have been quiet disorienting if I had a stomach to empty, but that wasn’t a concern for me. Instead, I relaxed and let the images sort themselves out. It didn’t take very long.
The image coalesced into a view from the back seat of older taxi cab. The tinny sounds of Indian music played in the background. I could make out the back of the purple turban-covered head of the driver of the cab, a bearded Sikh man of middling years.
The cab was moving, but it was dark outside, so the passing images were the neon signs of fast food restaurants, gas stations and convenience stores that could be found on the outskirts of nearly every American town or city.
I tried to focus on details that might give me a better clue as to where the cab was, but I found that I was constrained to the view of the person who had made the orb itself. The images and sounds that the maker of the orb saw and heard were the only images and sounds that came through on this recording. Again, rather than fight the frustration of such a limited view of events, I sat back and relaxed, content to see and hear what the mole was able to show me.
The cabbie’s head bobbed to the rhythms of the music coming from his cassette deck. The mole, however, was only cursorily interested in him. The image kept shifting from the windshield ahead to the piece of paper in the mole’s rough fingers. An address and a phone number showed on the paper: 25343 Covington Way and 555-9832.
The mole glanced back up to the display on the dashboard showing fare adding up. $19.51.
“Hey up, how much further?” The voice of the mole was loud and deep.
The cabbie looked back at the mole in the mirror as he responded. “Not much further, Sir. You get where you go when Gurmeet drive you, no funny business, OK?”
When Gurmeet turned his attention back to the road, the mole caught a small glimpse of his own face in the mirror. It was a rough, masculine face. It was the face of a man who faced many hard times in his life and had overcome those challenges through sheer force of will and more than a little dishonesty. I had seen similar looks on the faces of hundreds of perpetrators that I had arrested as a cop. The icy blue eyes were framed by a prominent brow ridge that sported bushy blonde eyebrows. The nose was on the long side, with a slight hook to the right (left because of the mirror?). His thin lips were firmly pursed in a look of not-so-slight anger or agitation. His upper lip and cheeks showed the stubble of a couple of days gone without shaving, but the stubble wasn’t long enough to hide the long, puckered scar that ran from the left corner of his mouth almost all of the way to his ear. His skin also showed several pock marks from a history of terrible acne or some other skin disease.
Seeing his reflection in the mirror seemed to irritate the man even further, as his mouth twitched in anger as looked back at the tolling meter. $22.27.
“You told me the fare would be no more than $25. I’m going to hold you to that, Gurmeet.”
Gurmeet bobbed his head and chirped out a polite answer. “Yes, Sir, that is the price I quoted. You no pay more.”
The image bobbed as the mole nodded his agreement and grunted in response. He looked down to the paper in his hand one more time and watched as he crumpled it up and tossed it to the floor of the cab.
“Sir, we are pulling up now.”
Good to his word, Gurmeet had the left turn signal on and was cranking hard on the wheel to pull the cab into the unlit driveway of a large McMansion nestled in amongst its nearly identical fellows in an otherwise unremarkable suburban community.
The cab stopped on the sloped driveway. Gurmeet got out of the cab and opened the passenger door behind him. “You see, Gurmeet knows stuff. That will be $24.78, please.”
The mole got up out of the cab, grabbing his small, worn backpack with his right hand. With his left hand he pulled out the two bills that were in his pants pocket. “Here, keep the change, and buy yourself a new air freshener, will you?” The mole easily stood six inches taller than Gurmeet, who did not appear to be a small man himself.
Gurmeet looked down at the crumpled up twenties in his hand and nodded eagerly. “Thank you, Good Sir. Here is my card. You call me direct if you need a ride back to the airport. I give you good deal, OK?”
The mole nodded and grunted. “Sure. Good night, pal.”
The mole watched from the sidewalk as Gurmeet slammed his door shut and jumped back into the front. With a friendly wave, Gurmeet back out of the driveway and sped off back in the direction of the airport. The wailing of the sitars and the female singing her cries of long lost love dwindling into the night as the cab turned from Covington Way back towards the main road.
The mole hoisted his backpack onto his left shoulder, glanced at the address plate next to the double door and began walking around the side to the back door.
With the music from the cab now gone, the night air was quiet. As with all of the homes nearby, the yard was perfectly manicured, with the grass mowed to the standardized golf course length and the bushes and hedges all trimmed to look neat and uniform. There were a number of smaller trees scattered throughout the yards, but they were still too young to stand on their own. This was clearly a recent development. Many of the houses looked to still be unoccupied.
The mole made his way to the elevated back deck of the huge house. The sounds of his heavy boots thumping on the wooden steps seemed loud, but he didn’t hesitate. He tromped up to the sliding glass door and tested it to see if it was open. Once he discovered that it was locked, he tried to peer inside, but the darkness inside the home was even deeper than night outside. Grunting again, he rapped loudly on the glass with his right hand, a thick ring on his ring finger making the loudest crack on the glass.
At first nothing happened. Then a face appeared just inside the glass door, almost as if by magick. It was a thin face of a woman who had seen almost as many hard times as the mole. She looked him up and down, eyes darting back and forth as she seemed to be watching for others as well. Finally a pale hand emerged from the darkness beneath her face and clicked the lock on the door. She nodded towards the handle on the door before both hand and face evaporated back into the inky darkness inside.
He opened the door and slipped inside the home, also glancing back to make sure that he was alone and unseen.
The image from the orb went completely dark, like I experienced when calling the Shadow to use it for travel from place to place.
When the image returned, it was quite clear that the mole was not standing inside the dining room of a suburban McMansion, but was now inside a worn out industrial warehouse of some sort. The light came from flickering fluorescent bulbs swaying in a stiff breeze. Puddles of water reflected that dim light, echoing with the drips of more water that also came from above.
The thin woman stood in a plain blue jumpsuit and boots, her frazzled hair framing her anemic looking face. Her arms were crossed as if she had been waiting impatiently. She was alone in the large, abandoned looking room.
Her sharp, nasal voice cut through the air as she spoke. “Name?”
The mole looked her up and down, glanced about the room. His eyes took in the darkened doorways and halls leading from this rather large, empty room. “Nick, Nicholas Kolkiwiecz. Who’re you?”
“You may call me Rose. State your purpose here.”
The mole shrugged. “Look, I heard that this was the place to come if you have certain talents and are looking for work. I sure as Hell hope that I’m in the right damn place or I’m going to make someone pay for my trip out here. I need work, not extra expenses.”
Rose didn’t look all that impressed. She uncrossed her arms and took a couple of steps towards Nick. Her head titled slightly to the left and down as she spoke, a sly smile creeping over her plain, drawn face. Her eyes were perhaps her only attractive feature, as they were large, almond shaped and brown. The rest of her face was pale to the point of being almost sickly. Her thin eyebrows had been drawn in after having been shaved, plucked or waxed clean. Her nose was long and thin, ending in two flaring nostrils that showed the redness of a drug addict while her lips were thin and colorless. Her cheekbones nearly protruded through her pale skin.
“You’re in the right place if you are looking for work, but I need to make sure that you have the talent to make it worth the while of my masters for you to speak with them. What talents do you bring to this party, Nick?”
Her lips pulled back as she smiled. Her teeth glittered and gleamed in the dim light, reflecting off of the silver and gems that were set in them. Her canines were the most modified, having been lengthened and given a fang-like sharpness to them.
Nick nodded, standing his ground. “Good enough. I’m very talented with my hands.” He let the backpack slide to the ground and brought his hand to show Rose. His hands were thick with calluses, showing the obvious wear and tear of a person who worked with tools on a daily basis.
Rose came even close, touching his hand with hers. Her fingers ended in talon-like nails that were painted a bright red. Her touch must have been cold, because Nick flinched ever so slightly with her touch.
“That’s nice, Nick, but we don’t need any cabinets built here.” She stroked her fingers up and down his right hand, her nails leaving a slight trail of white marks where they passed. “The things we’re building require a bit more finesse than your hands seem to be capable of producing, if you know what I mean?” Her smile was only a few inches from his hand now.
“Look Lady, I only work with wood and metal when I need to, when I need to look like I make an honest living.” He pulled his hand back from her face as she ran a tongue over the gems in her upper teeth. “My talents lie with other, less conventional materials.”
“Oh, and just what might those be, dear Nick?” Her eyes ran up and down his body, as if she were she was very hungry and he was a great meal.
Nick knelt down to his backpack. “Step back now, Miss, I don’t want you to get hurt.” He reached into the pack and pulled out a small black controller with a knob and several buttons. He then flipped back the flap covering the opening and stood up.
Curious, Rose knelt down towards the pack despite Nick’s warning. “Show me what surprise you have for us.”
“Alright, but I warned you.”
Nick mashed a button with one of his fingers and the pack rustled as if something was coming alive.
Rose leaned closer.
Nick turned the knob on the controller and pressed another button. The thing in the backpack erupted from inside with a leap to land right in front of the startled Rose. It was a raccoon with glassy eyes and a permanent snarl to its face. As Nick manipulated the buttons and the knob, the creature moved with almost lifelike precision and speed.
Rose laughed with delight as she reached out to touch the fur. “It feels so life-like. Did you use real fur?”
Nick nodded. “It’s almost all real, from the bones and sinew to the fur. It’s a real raccoon.”
She marveled at the creature as he made it dance and maneuver around in front of her. “How does it move around?”
“That’s my little secret. Let me just say that you can’t buy it in stores. But my talents are for sale, if you know what I mean.”
Rose looked up from the zombified ‘coon and back up to Nick with a new kind of appreciation. “Can you do this with other creatures? Bigger creatures?”
Nick nodded again. “Yep, anything that’s got a body with bones, muscles and skin. The bigger they are, the easier they are to work with.”
Rose smiled again, this time it was the smile of someone who is pleasantly surprised. “I think, Nick, that you need to speak to my masters.”
(To be continued…)
Monday, January 01, 2007
Puzzling Choices and Surprising Revelations
“I’m not sure what to do next.” I paced restlessly back and forth, the wooden floorboards of the Professor’s library creaking under my weight. “Do we focus on putting Dick Arnold and his shell companies out of business, or concentrate on the An’girasii like Drake wants me to do? I don’t like how things are shaping up.”
Jim was comfortably resting in his worn leather easy chair, a half-full 2 liter bottle of Diet Pepsi in hand. His eyes followed me as I paced, but his thoughts were clearly distant.
“Has Agent Wilson reported any more killings that look like the ones you dealt with in South Beach?”
I stopped briefly, looked back at him and shook my head. “No. Nothing is showing up as that glaring just yet, but there are a couple of historical cases where she is getting the old files on. She said she’d let me know when they arrived.”
He took a swig from the bottle before setting it down. “Well if there is anything to be found, she’ll find it. She was one of Ravyn’s best students. We were sorry to see her go, but at least we have a reliable contact at the Bureau again.”
“What, I’m not reliable enough for you?”
Jim laughed. “Well, you don’t actually spend much time down at Quantico, do you? Besides Ravyn’s not wrong when she points out how clueless you can be when it comes to dealing with people.”
“Hey now, that’s not fair. Do you know how hard it is to get people to open up and talk to you when you got a face like this? Even FBI agents turn around and walk the other way when they see me coming.”
Jim held up his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, I’m just agreeing with Ravyn. I’m not much of a small talker either. But you have to admit, Jennifer has an easier time talking her way into gossip and secrets than you do!”
I nodded. “Well it also helps that she has the Talents she does to read people and profile people. I certainly don’t have the people skills that she does, or the cute smile either.”
He smiled at that. “Right. Now back to the issue at hand. I’ve heard some troubling rumors from number of non-ORC Casters who’ve told me about a recruiting campaign that has been taking place.”
“Who is being recruited and who’s doing the recruiting?”
Jim got up from his chair and walked over to the window, looking out on his unnaturally green backyard for a late December day. “The Casters that are being recruited are the ones that we ORC’s have always been mindful of, the unsavory, unethical types who use their special talents solely for personal gain, usually at the expense of clueless, defenseless innocent people with no inherent Talent themselves.”
He turned back from the window, reached into a pocket in his jeans to pull out a small, transparent orb. He stared down into it briefly before he looked up and tossed it in my direction. “Catch!”
I bobbled the small, egg sized orb before securing it with both hands. I brought it up to closer to my face with my right hand, holding it firmly between thumb and index finger.
“What’s this?”
Jim settled back down into his easy chair, chuckling as he did so. “You catch about as well as our poor Tiger’s pitchers. Perhaps Jim Leyland should include you in that special fielding practice that he’s got ready for our pitchers this spring. That orb contains the entire field report from one of our moles. That will give you a very good idea of who is doing this recruiting.”
“Wait a minute…we have moles? How big of an organization do we actually have here? And how come I was never told about us having our own moles and spies?”
Jim glanced up at me through the wire-rimmed glasses that had slid down his nose and sighed. “Rusty, even with everything that we have been through together over the last year and a half, you have only seen the tip of the iceberg as far as this organization goes. Part of the reason for that has been happenstance, but the main reason has been by design. It has only been recently that we could be absolutely certain that you weren’t an agent of Drake’s trying to infiltrate our organization. There was simply too much at stake to risk revealing our entire organization and its resources to a person as dangerous as Drake and too someone as dangerous as you had become.”
That last sentence staggered me. “You were worried about me?”
He nodded. “We had to be.”
“It was John Red Bear who sought me out, not the other way around you know.”
“I know. It was also John’s advice that we were following to limit our exposure with you. Even he was worried that you could either be a double agent, or that you would fall prey to forces beyond your ability to control. That’s why you’ve dealt with a relatively small number of us to date. We’ve had to keep our exposure limited to Ravyn’s Phoenix Clan and her associate members such as the Frau, Cerrydwen and myself, plus Herne and Moira and a few folks that you met in Vegas.”
“How damn big is this organization?”
His expression was completely blank as he replied. “Big enough.”
“What, don’t you trust me yet?”
“It’s not merely a matter of trust, Rusty. It’s a matter of a need to know. Right now you don’t really have a need to know details that are really unimportant right now.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me, Jim. After all of the shit we’ve been through together, you’re pulling this on me? What the Hell do I have to do for you guys to fully trust me and treat me as an equal?”
Now he smiled. “I thought you’d never ask. Rusty, would you like to become a fully vested member of the Organization of Responsible Casters?”
I shook my head, but couldn’t keep from smiling myself. “Yeah, I would. So what do I need to do?”
Jim got up out of the chair again. As he moved towards me, he held out his right hand which held another small crystal orb. This orb will give you some details about the induction ceremony and what all it entails. Take some time to review the information in both orbs, while I make the necessary arrangements for your formal induction.”
“One question, how do I get the information out of these things?”
He chuckled again as he passed me. “Hold the one you want to view clasped in your right hand and just state the password. The images will begin playing in your head. The password for each stone is ‘Betsy.’ I would sit down when you are watching the images. It can be very disorienting. Now, if you will excuse me, I have some arrangements to make.”
I sat down in easy chair, looked at the orb in each hand and tried to decide which one to view first.
Jim was comfortably resting in his worn leather easy chair, a half-full 2 liter bottle of Diet Pepsi in hand. His eyes followed me as I paced, but his thoughts were clearly distant.
“Has Agent Wilson reported any more killings that look like the ones you dealt with in South Beach?”
I stopped briefly, looked back at him and shook my head. “No. Nothing is showing up as that glaring just yet, but there are a couple of historical cases where she is getting the old files on. She said she’d let me know when they arrived.”
He took a swig from the bottle before setting it down. “Well if there is anything to be found, she’ll find it. She was one of Ravyn’s best students. We were sorry to see her go, but at least we have a reliable contact at the Bureau again.”
“What, I’m not reliable enough for you?”
Jim laughed. “Well, you don’t actually spend much time down at Quantico, do you? Besides Ravyn’s not wrong when she points out how clueless you can be when it comes to dealing with people.”
“Hey now, that’s not fair. Do you know how hard it is to get people to open up and talk to you when you got a face like this? Even FBI agents turn around and walk the other way when they see me coming.”
Jim held up his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, I’m just agreeing with Ravyn. I’m not much of a small talker either. But you have to admit, Jennifer has an easier time talking her way into gossip and secrets than you do!”
I nodded. “Well it also helps that she has the Talents she does to read people and profile people. I certainly don’t have the people skills that she does, or the cute smile either.”
He smiled at that. “Right. Now back to the issue at hand. I’ve heard some troubling rumors from number of non-ORC Casters who’ve told me about a recruiting campaign that has been taking place.”
“Who is being recruited and who’s doing the recruiting?”
Jim got up from his chair and walked over to the window, looking out on his unnaturally green backyard for a late December day. “The Casters that are being recruited are the ones that we ORC’s have always been mindful of, the unsavory, unethical types who use their special talents solely for personal gain, usually at the expense of clueless, defenseless innocent people with no inherent Talent themselves.”
He turned back from the window, reached into a pocket in his jeans to pull out a small, transparent orb. He stared down into it briefly before he looked up and tossed it in my direction. “Catch!”
I bobbled the small, egg sized orb before securing it with both hands. I brought it up to closer to my face with my right hand, holding it firmly between thumb and index finger.
“What’s this?”
Jim settled back down into his easy chair, chuckling as he did so. “You catch about as well as our poor Tiger’s pitchers. Perhaps Jim Leyland should include you in that special fielding practice that he’s got ready for our pitchers this spring. That orb contains the entire field report from one of our moles. That will give you a very good idea of who is doing this recruiting.”
“Wait a minute…we have moles? How big of an organization do we actually have here? And how come I was never told about us having our own moles and spies?”
Jim glanced up at me through the wire-rimmed glasses that had slid down his nose and sighed. “Rusty, even with everything that we have been through together over the last year and a half, you have only seen the tip of the iceberg as far as this organization goes. Part of the reason for that has been happenstance, but the main reason has been by design. It has only been recently that we could be absolutely certain that you weren’t an agent of Drake’s trying to infiltrate our organization. There was simply too much at stake to risk revealing our entire organization and its resources to a person as dangerous as Drake and too someone as dangerous as you had become.”
That last sentence staggered me. “You were worried about me?”
He nodded. “We had to be.”
“It was John Red Bear who sought me out, not the other way around you know.”
“I know. It was also John’s advice that we were following to limit our exposure with you. Even he was worried that you could either be a double agent, or that you would fall prey to forces beyond your ability to control. That’s why you’ve dealt with a relatively small number of us to date. We’ve had to keep our exposure limited to Ravyn’s Phoenix Clan and her associate members such as the Frau, Cerrydwen and myself, plus Herne and Moira and a few folks that you met in Vegas.”
“How damn big is this organization?”
His expression was completely blank as he replied. “Big enough.”
“What, don’t you trust me yet?”
“It’s not merely a matter of trust, Rusty. It’s a matter of a need to know. Right now you don’t really have a need to know details that are really unimportant right now.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me, Jim. After all of the shit we’ve been through together, you’re pulling this on me? What the Hell do I have to do for you guys to fully trust me and treat me as an equal?”
Now he smiled. “I thought you’d never ask. Rusty, would you like to become a fully vested member of the Organization of Responsible Casters?”
I shook my head, but couldn’t keep from smiling myself. “Yeah, I would. So what do I need to do?”
Jim got up out of the chair again. As he moved towards me, he held out his right hand which held another small crystal orb. This orb will give you some details about the induction ceremony and what all it entails. Take some time to review the information in both orbs, while I make the necessary arrangements for your formal induction.”
“One question, how do I get the information out of these things?”
He chuckled again as he passed me. “Hold the one you want to view clasped in your right hand and just state the password. The images will begin playing in your head. The password for each stone is ‘Betsy.’ I would sit down when you are watching the images. It can be very disorienting. Now, if you will excuse me, I have some arrangements to make.”
I sat down in easy chair, looked at the orb in each hand and tried to decide which one to view first.
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