Transition Team Zulu

My cell phone rang very early yesterday morning…the caller ID was blocked.

“Hello?”

The voice at the other end of the line was that familiar deep baritone of Zulu. “How are you Rusty?”

“Fine, Sir. How are you? I hope that you have fully recovered from your recent…ordeal.” He had been placed under secret arrest under the guise of a medical emergency during the big showdown between us and Klimm (El Diablito) and his allies.

He chuckled. “I am entirely fine. In fact, I couldn’t be happier about this country’s political future at the moment.”

“Really, funny, I would have thought that your politics leaned a little more to the right than the new administration’s do.”

“Oh, they do. But even religious conservatives appreciate competence in government, and I have no love for the buffoons that are now on their last months in office. That brings me to reason for this call, in fact.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. I need you and your companions to come meet someone very important. There is much to discuss.”

I was definitely curious now. “Who are we going to meet with? Where do you want us to come?”

He paused. “I would like you to bring Ms. Fyre, Frau Tufts, Jasmine, Professor Karlton and…” I could hear his voice catch before he spoke the last name. “Cerrydwen. As to where you need to come, I will be placing one of Ms. Fyre’s beacons in one of the suites at the hotel I am staying at in Chicago. I will activate the beacon at 11 PM your time and will leave it active for exactly 15 minutes. Please be prompt, this is a very important meeting.”

The call ended before I could ask any more questions.


***


The six of us gathered just before eleven o’clock. Trusting that Zulu wasn’t setting us up for an ambush, we were for the most part only lightly armed.

I was carrying my batons in their normal forearm holsters, but they were concealed beneath my heavy leather jacket. I was wearing my normal heavy duty jeans and work boots. I topped it all off with a pair of mirrored sun-glasses despite the time of night.

Except Cerrydwen, everyone else was dressed more formally. Cerrydwen joined me in wearing jeans, boots, a shapeless sweatshirt covered up by a heavy leather jacket.

Jasmine looked radiant in a long black dress that complimented her figure and knee high black boots. The Frau was wrapped in one of her embroidered shawls that covered a nice blouse and pants. Jim was in his professorial uniform of a tweed jacket over a loose turtle neck matched with tan Dockers and casual shoes. Ravyn was more subdued than her normal colorful self, wearing a black and grey turtleneck sweater and black pants. The only touch of her normal flash was a sparkling bird-shaped broach made of gold and rubies that lay nestled between her neck and her right shoulder.

Once we were all assembled in the Transport Room the Frau closed the door and nodded towards Ravyn. We were silent now, but only because we had spent the better part of the day discussing who we were going to meet and why. The theories were quite varied from the wildly fantastic to mere mundane meeting with a new business associate.

Ravyn stretched her arms out like she was embracing the whole group in virtual hug and closed her eyes. “I can feel the Beacon. It is now active. Brace yourselves.”

By the nature of her source of power, Ravyn’s method of mass instantaneous travel was much wrenching and violent than mine used to be. The Shadow is subtle, silent source of soothing strength. Flame, however, is extremely energetic, noisy, and flashy. With a roar, we were enveloped in a burst of flames that didn’t burn and smoke that didn’t choke.

I felt the dislocation from our previous place followed by the disconcerting sense of falling that seemed to last several minutes before a second stomach churning sensation ended the fall in another popping flash and a puff of smoke.

The smoke cleared to reveal a very well apportioned living room that was dominated by the breathtaking view of the Chicago skyline lit up at night at least forty floors up from the street seen through the huge floor-to-ceiling plate glass windows to our immediate front.

Jim cleared his throat before speaking. “Well, I am certainly glad that you hit your spot, Ravyn, my dear, just 15 feet off and we’d still be falling!”

Ravyn looked down, pointing to a spot between her feet. “You can thank Zulu for putting the beacon right here.”

Zulu’s voice behind us got us all to turn around. “Thank you for coming. Please make yourselves comfortable. There are refreshments in the kitchen and on the dining room table. Please help yourselves. I will be escorting you in to meet our host one at a time, starting with you, Rusty.”

I couldn’t resist. “So who is our host, Sir?”

He smiled mysteriously before extending his arm to me. “Why don’t you come see for yourself, Rusty. Please leave your batons here with your colleagues. You won’t be needing them.” He looked over to each of the others. “Please leave any weapons or items of particular power here in this suite when you come with me. Our host’s security requirements are rather strict.”

I hesitated before tapping the release mechanisms for the holsters on each wrist and dropping them onto the sofa. “Who could possibly need this level of security?”

He shrugged. “Please, our host is waiting. He has been exceptionally generous to give us this time from his extremely busy schedule.” He nodded as my holstered batons hit the sofa. “Rusty, if you would be so kind, please come with me.” He looked back to the others as he led me towards a door to the adjoining suite. “I will be back for each of you presently.”

He pulled out a magnetize proximity card from his suit jacket pocket and touched it up against the plain black pad next to the door. There was a gentle click and a soft buzz the let us know that the door was open.

I grabbed the door knob and pushed into the darkened room beyond.

I saw a single figure at the far end of an office like room. The figure was peering out his own floor-to-ceiling window with his back turned to me. I could sense several other people in the room, but they held vigilant positions at the perimeter of the room with a professional poise that told me that this was someone who was Very Important.

The figure was tall and lanky, his hands clasped behind him as he took in the breathtaking view. His profile was instantly recognizable from the past year and a half of a campaign.

Zulu’s voice called out softly, announcing our arrival. “Mr. President-Elect, I would like to introduce you to Agent Rusty Bones, formerly known as Officer Jason Smith of the Dearborn Hills Police Department.”

The newly elected man turned to face us with a calm, thoughtful demeanor. He motioned with a sweeping gesture for us to join him. His voice was smooth as silk while his eyes narrowed as he took in my appearance. I could tell that he was sizing me up. “Agent Bones, please come have a seat. We have much to discuss…”