Politics of Blood (Gray Spear Society Book 8) (9 page)

"Will you tell me the purpose of this experiment?" Kamal said.

"We're going to create a spatial boundary condition," Bethany replied in her synthetic voice.

"What do you mean?"

"Effectively, a black hole with no mass."

Kamal contemplated this preposterous statement. "Is it dangerous?"

"There is a certain amount of risk," she said. "Time could stop, or we could be vaporized."

"Oh."

He turned to a laptop computer sitting on the roof. The specifications for the device were shown on the display. According to all the physics he knew, the thing was nothing more than an expensive piece of junk. Obviously, he didn't know enough.

"I think we're ready." Bethany looked up at the sky.

"Are you going to turn it on?" Kamal said.

"We have to wait for the airplanes to land. I just sent a message to air traffic control to clear the skies."

That was another disturbing aspect of the twins. They had wireless communication built into their brains. They could control their computers from anywhere. Physical interaction was unnecessary.

"You're worried about taking out an airplane?" he said.

She nodded. "The phenomenon could interfere with navigation systems."

"Should we get behind cover?"

"Probably."

Kamal, Bethany, and Leanna went behind a white, metal shed on the roof. Missile launchers were hidden inside the shed.

"Goodbye," Bethany said in soft pure tones.

"Why goodbye?" Kamal said.

"In case we die, I wanted to say goodbye." She hugged her sister briefly.

"Oh. It was nice knowing you."

"I'm turning it on now."

She didn't do anything. Obviously, she was communicating with the device using the radio in her head.

He heard a loud pop followed by a whistling noise. He cautiously looked around the corner of the shed.

A black sphere the size of a basketball was floating above the device. The surface was so perfectly featureless, it looked like a hole in space. Kamal could hardly believe his eyes. This technology was from the distant future.

"I think it's working," he said. "At least, we're not dead. What's that sound? It's like static."

The twins walked around to observe their experiment. If they were proud of their extraordinary accomplishment, it was impossible to tell. Their metallic faces rarely expressed emotion.

"I think it's the air interacting with the surface," Bethany said. "We forgot to account for the presence of an atmosphere."

"Is that a problem?"

She looked at him with her solid, black eyes. "Yes."

There was a loud bang, and a blast of hot air swept Kamal off his feet. He lay on the roof for a moment, stunned.

After he got his bearings, he looked over at the twins. They were getting up slowly but didn't appear injured. He checked himself and only found a few scrapes.

"We'll make some adjustments before we try that experiment again," Bethany said.

He sat up and looked at the device. It had been crushed to a fine powder.

"Good idea," he said. "The first 'adjustment' will be building a new device."

* * *

A tap on the shoulder woke Perry. He looked up into the stern face of his commander.

"I finished going through your threat list," Aaron said. "Great work. It was exactly what I wanted."

"Thank you, sir."

Perry sat up. He was on the couch in the living room in headquarters. A huge television was hung on the wall. Several game systems were below, but he had never seen anybody play them. Team members did watch movies though. Two overstuffed recliners were at both ends of a very comfortable couch.

"I've already handed out new assignments," Aaron said. "Smythe and Sheryl are checking out the Sudanese terrorists. Norbert and Tawni will visit the Plumber."

"The who?" Perry rubbed his tired eyes.

"The assassin."

"Oh, right. He was on the Society watch list. A very dangerous man. Did you warn Norbert and Tawni?"

"Of course," Aaron said, "but I appreciate your concern. Get up. I need you back at your computer and doing more research. You've had a long enough nap."

"Yes, sir."

* * *

Smythe looked up at the face of a brick apartment building. "The terrorists are there." He turned to another apartment building across the street. "And the CIA is there."

He and Sheryl had changed their costumes. They now wore the black suits, dark sunglasses, and ear buds of Secret Service agents.

Sheryl smiled. "This is fun. It's like walking into a spy novel."

"Just stay in character. Federal agents don't smile while on duty. We'll start with the CIA."

"Do you want to let me do the talking? You're the most stand-up guy I know, but you're not the best liar."

"Fine." He snarled. "I'll let the professional deceiver take the lead."

"You say that as if it's an insult. I'm proud of what I do."

They entered the second apartment building. The interior was a dingy green, and a couple of light bulbs were burned out. The smell of sour milk was pervasive. The elevator doors had worrisome dents, so Smythe and Sheryl climbed the stairs instead.

They reached the third floor and found apartment 312. He knocked loudly and stepped back.

The door opened just a crack and a man peered out. "Hello?"

Sheryl showed him a Secret Service badge. "We need to talk. We already know you're observing a group of Sudanese terrorists, so just let us in."

He stared at the badge for a moment before opening the door.

Smythe and Sheryl went into the apartment and found three more men inside. One was peering through a window with a telescope. Another was listening with headphones and taking notes. The third was sleeping on the floor on an air mattress. They wore civilian clothes. The room smelled like body odor.

"Gentlemen," Sheryl said. "The President is in town, as I'm sure you know. We're here to perform a threat assessment. Are these terrorists a significant danger to his life?"

The man who had let them into the apartment stood in front of her with his arms crossed. He had short, black hair. He hadn't shaved in a few weeks, and his beard was a scrappy mess.

"How do you know about this operation?" he said. "It's supposed to be top secret."

"Don't worry about that," Sheryl said. "Just answer the question."

"If the CIA is leaking sensitive information to the Secret Service, I have to worry."

"These are special circumstances. All the agencies are working together to protect the Democratic Convention. We have a lot of ground to cover today. Please, give us your report so we can move on."

The spy frowned. Eventually, he said, "We're observing the subjects around the clock. We have their names and background information. Tracking devices are planted in their luggage. If they try anything, we'll know about it."

"Do they have a specific plan?" Sheryl said.

"They want to use poison gas to disrupt the convention, but they didn't bring any gas. Right now, they're trying to make some using household products. These guys aren't the sharpest tacks in the box. They'll probably poison themselves by accident."

"Why haven't you arrested them?"

"Their conversations are full of useful intelligence," the spy said. "We decided to let them dangle a little longer. In summary, the threat level is low to moderate at this point, but we're watching carefully."

Sheryl nodded in a professional manner. She walked over to the telescope. The man there stepped aside to let her peer through it.

Smythe took out a business card and handed it to the first spy. "If that threat level ticks up, call this number. We'll do what it takes to stop these terrorists. Of course, we'd feel more comfortable if you just arrested them now."

"We'll get to it." The spy stuffed the card in his pocket.

"Thank you for your cooperation."

Smythe and Sheryl left the apartment.

As soon as they were back on the street, he pulled out his phone and called Aaron.

"Report," the commander said gruffly.

"The CIA seems to have the situation under control, sir," Smythe said. "I gave them my card. I think we can move on."

"Good. The next one on the list is a group of radical black activists who thinks Haley has sold out to 'the Man.' I'll text the details to you."

"Yes, sir."

Chapter Five

Norbert and Tawni stood on either side of a hotel room door. Their backs were to the wall.

"Don't forget this guy is a pro," he whispered, "a legend in the assassination business. He'll take you out if you give him half a chance."

She looked at her hands. Wisps of inky darkness were rising from her fingers like smoke.

She balled her fists and smiled. "Let's do this."

Norbert knocked on the door. "Room service!" he called out.

A moment later, a man responded from the other side of the door. "I didn't order room service."

"Oh, sorry, sir. We had the wrong room."

Norbert stomped on the floor to simulate the sounds of walking away. He and Tawni waited patiently. It was just a matter of time before curiosity got the better of the "Plumber."

After half a minute, the door cracked open. A man with blond hair peered out.

Norbert kicked him in the gut with enough force to send him staggering backwards.

Norbert followed the Plumber into the hotel room. The assassin was wearing a bathrobe, but apparently, that didn't mean he was unarmed. He was reaching into his robe when Norbert punched him in the jaw. The hard blow sent broken teeth and blood flying.

The Plumber went down. Norbert dropped a knee onto his kidney for good measure. The Plumber tried to squirm away. Norbert grabbed both his arms and twisted until they dislocated.

Norbert held the Plumber down while Tawni searched him for weapons. She found a gun and a knife under his bathrobe.

"Who are you?" the Plumber grunted.

He was a powerfully built man. Odd scars crisscrossed his cheeks.

"That's not important," Norbert said. "We just have one question. Who is your target?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You're Harry Walker, a.k.a. the Plumber. International assassin. Three days ago, you received money from Sean Coulter. He's a wealthy businessman who leans so far to the right it's a miracle he doesn't fall over. Coulter has loudly and repeatedly denounced the President. Coincidently, you arrived in Chicago last night, and the President is here today."

After a long silence, the Plumber said, "You know a lot about me."

"We know
everything
about you. Who did you come to kill?"

"You don't really expect me to tell you, do you?"

Norbert gave the man's arms another hard twist. "Honestly, we don't care what you do for a living. We're not the police. We won't arrest you. We just need some information, and then we'll be on our way."

The Plumber tried to kick his way out of the hold. It was an expert move, but Norbert had been trained by Aaron. When the brief scrum ended, the Plumber had a broken right arm and a torn knee ligament.

"Are you ready to talk now?" Norbert said.

The Plumber shook his head. "Never."

"An assassin with a sense of honor? How ironic. This is your last chance before my lady friend has a go at you. She's not kind and gentle like me."

Norbert looked at Tawni. Her eyes gleamed with eagerness, and the smile on her face was savage. This was going to get ugly.

"I won't talk," the Plumber said.

Norbert nodded to Tawni.

She knelt down and whispered in the Plumber's ear, "This is going to hurt."

She covered his mouth with her hand. Shadows slipped down his throat like snakes. He thrashed silently, unable to breathe with the darkness in his lungs. She pulled away his bathrobe and placed her other hand on his back. More shadows attacked his skin hungrily. He bucked so hard Norbert had to break the Plumber's other arm to keep him under control.

Tawni withdrew all her shadows and moved back. He inhaled deeply with a ragged gasp. There was a handprint on his back where the skin had become gray and withered.

"Enjoy that?" she said.

The Plumber groaned.

"Who is your target?" Norbert said.

The Plumber shook his head.

Tawni silenced him by sending the shadows down his throat again. With her other hand, she reached between his legs. His entire body contorted in agony. It took all of Norbert's strength to keep him on the floor.

The torture continued for thirty seconds until Tawni finally allowed her victim to breathe. The Plumber mewled like a wounded animal.

"I hope you weren't planning to have children," she said, "because it won't happen now. You should have your junk cut off before it starts to rot."

She grinned in a way that made Norbert shiver. He had seen the same chilling expression on the legate's face. The two women were very much alike.

"Doug Irvine," the Plumber gasped.

"Who?" Norbert said.

"The President's campaign manager. Without Irvine, Haley will lose the election. Coulter didn't want me to attack the President directly. That was too difficult a target."

"How do I know you're not lying?"

"I have a briefcase," the Plumber said. "There is a hidden compartment."

Tawni went to a table and grabbed a black, leather briefcase. She didn't bother trying to find the compartment with a careful search. Instead, she violently attacked the briefcase with a knife.

She eventually discovered a manila packet concealed in the back. She examined the photographs and papers inside.

"He could be telling the truth," she said.

"Call it in," Norbert said.

"Are you going to let me go?" the Plumber said.

"Not yet. My superiors will decide your fate."

The Plumber moaned.

* * *

President Haley was sitting at the head of a long dining room table. A feast had been laid out for him and twenty invited guests. Favored staffers, high ranking members of the Democratic Party, and prominent donors were in attendance. Everybody was in a great mood in anticipation of a great convention. A feeling of impending victory was in the air.