All That We Are (The Commander Book 7) (38 page)

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“Ma’am, I want to speak to Carol in private,” Gilgamesh said.  His hands shook.  He barely held on to the pay phone.

“I’ll send her out,” Kali said.  “I need a break anyway.”  She hung up.

Now wasn’t the time for this, but Gilgamesh was out of time.  Out of patience with himself, and the world.  The Arms were stressed and angry, matching his mood.  Tiamat had been sharing space with Kali for two days, doing fight preparations.  Supergirl had shown up today, living out of a hotel room a few miles away.  It took a lot to force the Arms to work together so closely.

Tiamat walked out of Kali’s place and Gilgamesh started his approach.  He knew how Kali had handled Newton ‘deserting her’; it didn’t matter that the Newt had been captured by Wandering Shade and turned into a weapon to use against Stalin.  Only Newton’s failure mattered.

What Gilgamesh did, leaving Carol so he could go off and chase windmills, had been far worse.  That he knew.  Now?  Time to pay the price for his foolishness.

He didn’t much care what Tiamat chose to do to him.  Not after today.

“Ma’am.  I’m here,” Gilgamesh said.  He came around the bushes to where Tiamat waited just outside the row of overgrown boxwoods surrounding Kali’s house.

“What’s going on?” Tiamat said.  “Quickly, now.  I need to get back to work.”  Ice cold.  His Tiamat had no warmth toward him at all.

“I’m here to apologize and explain,” Gilgamesh said.

“I’m not interested in the former.  Be quick about the latter.”

This went worse than he feared.  This was Tiamat at her most terrifying.  No friendly Carol today.  “Ma’am, may I approach?”

“Huh.”

She even sounded like Kali right now.  Bad.  Very bad.

Gilgamesh crept up.  “I have two letters to show you, ma’am.  The first was sent to Focus Rickenbach’s household, the second to Crow Watchmaker.”

He handed over the letters.

Dear Gilgamesh

It is with a heavy heart that I must state that the bad news we’d feared has been confirmed.  Your old friend Ezekiel was apparently killed in Miami in either the first or second week of March.  Extensive work was involved in ferreting out this information, but evidence of a Beast Man-cleaned dross explosion was found in an attic storage over a fire station, along with mundane items believed to have been Ezekiel’s.  I don’t wish to disturb you overly much, but none of Ezekiel’s correspondence or his writings were found.  Many Crows are going to be changing their mailing addresses because of this.

I thank you for the draft paper of Focus Rizzari’s regarding the physical gift of Focuses, and I apologize for the delay in relaying my thanks.  I hadn’t expected her conclusion, that the physical gift of the Focus is the ability to survive extensive wounds and keep her mind and juice handling abilities functional.  It does mirror the ability of Beast Men to keep their physical bodies functional regardless of the damage they have taken; and the pairing does mirror the Arm and Crow pairing of inhuman muscle efficiency (all muscles for Arms; fast twitch muscles for us Crows).  Tiamat’s comment that Crows should train their sprinting and leaping abilities matches what Sky and a few other Crows have reported.  Perhaps someday I will train those muscles myself.  I find it most intriguing that this also follows Arm Haggerty’s predictions.  I’d say she’s an Arm we have to watch, save I’d be redundant, with Midgard on the case.

I wish I was able to tell you what has been going on in my life, but I can’t.  I am recovering.  Be careful who you listen to and trust.  Things have moved from words to deeds, and much that appears real is not.  You are one of the few who’s kept faith with me, for which I thank you.

I don’t want you telling anyone, Gilgamesh, but I’m going to be at this Focus wedding trap.  Crow Killer is specifically targeting my people, which makes this personal (sigh; yes, I’m the one this psychological quirk of ours comes from).  I also fear he was behind the attack on me (I’ll save the panic-inducing story for much later) and I know he’s behind the smearing of my good name. I’m going in disguise.  Keep an eye out for me and try to keep the Arms from killing me.

With best regards,

Shadow

Gilgamesh

I’m doing this as a favor for the General.  Don’t make me regret it.  If you wish to avoid being turned into a test subject of mine and howl the remainder of your life away in endless agony, you must surrender to me immediately, in Chicago.  The information you carry with you will buy you a new name and a new station, as a leading Crow among the Hunters.  I know where you live and every move you make; you are mine, as you always were.  If you do not surrender, I will hunt you down personally once this is over.  Don’t make me do so.  You will regret your choice for all eternity.

Shadow

Tiamat read the letters and handed them back to Gilgamesh.  “Has this changed your mind about Shadow?”

“The letters have made me more confused than ever, ma’am,” he said.  She glared at him, and he moved a step back.  “The handwriting is the same, as is the paper; the first was written with a ball point pen, while the second was written with a fountain pen.  They are both scentless.  Everything is consistent with the theory that Shadow is Rogue Crow and insane, as well as with the theory that Rogue Crow has stolen Shadow’s identity.  I have one other bit of information you need to know.”  He told Tiamat about Newton’s encounter with Wandering Shade, and how Wandering Shade visibly wore the Law in his glow.  Which ‘Shadow’ did not, in the Dallas encounter.

“Okay,” Tiamat said.  “The letters do nothing for me, but Newton’s observation does.  It says Rogue Crow does have the skill and talent to be masquerading as Shadow.  It also says Rogue Crow has the skill and talent to be masquerading as
you
.”

“If so, then why haven’t I attacked you?” Gilgamesh said, cheeky and uncaring as to the consequences.

He probably shouldn’t have said such a thing, he realized, when, a blink later, he found himself with Tiamat’s hand around his neck, lifted in the air, Tiamat’s predatory eyes boring into his.  “Urk!”

Tiamat put him down and backed off, out of skunk range.  He fell to the cracked pavement of the sidewalk.  “I’m satisfied you’re Gilgamesh.”  She still didn’t trust him.  She had decided not to kill him, but it took work.  She feared Rogue Crow had turned him to his side of the fight.

“Carol, please,” he said.  “I’m still your Crow.”  His voice tailed off.  “I am.”

“You never were,” she said.  “Nor will you ever be.”

He had always feared Tiamat would grow tired of his independence.  He didn’t bother to stand, and just let the shaking take him where he lay crumbled on the ground.  “I found what lured me to Detroit, ma’am.”

“Tell me.”

“My former family.  My wife’s remarried, and they’re here.”  He told the rest of the story.  “It was a trick of the juice, ma’am.  A trick of the goddamned juice.”

Tiamat’s emotional ice cracked a little, a few drops of caring leaking into her emotional state.  Then nothing.  “So be it.  If you’re still with us, Gilgamesh, we’re meeting at rendezvous point C at 6 AM on the 17
th
.  Be there.  Or not.”

Tiamat turned and stalked back inside.

Part 4
The Happiest Day of My Life
(May 17, 1969)

“It is well that war is so terrible - we shouldn't grow too fond of it.” – Robert E. Lee

Chapter 9

“Health, contentment and trust

Are your greatest possessions,

And freedom your greatest joy.”

– The Buddha

Gail Rickenbach

Tricia finished braiding Gail’s hair, then pinned it up in a French twist.  “Gail,” she said.  “It’s going to be okay.”  They were in the bride’s room of St. Luke’s, and the room was a bustle of activity.

Horror stories abounded about how badly a Focus could back up the juice on her wedding day, but the stories hadn’t dissuaded any of her Transform women from doting on Gail to excess.  Which was good, as her hands couldn’t stop shaking.  Hell, her
body
couldn’t stop shaking.  Lucky her, she didn’t have to worry about coming down with the Shakes again.  No, it was just normal, honest-to-God wedding nerves.

Oh, and one other thing.

The big secret.  The fact the world had scheduled a large chance that her wedding or reception would turn into a war zone.  Only her inner circle knew, and she had drilled Kurt, Sylvie and Van to where they were able to do their versions of Transform Doublethink as well as she did.  Letting the wedding go on anyway was a gamble.  The risk soured her stomach, but she understood responsibility, now.  She hoped.

No one would notice her nerves.  Surely.  Brides were always nervous on their wedding day.

“Where’s Kurt and Gordie?” Gail said, uneasy.  They were the bodyguards on duty today.  Her other two bodyguards, Vic and John, guarded Van, and man, had they given her strange looks when she gave them that order.

“Don’t worry so much,” Tricia said, tucking a loose strand in underneath the pins.  “They’re just outside the door.”  Gail knew this, if she thought like a Focus. Gordie was perfectly visible to her metasense.  Above the crush of people, she heard her mother arguing with one of her people about flowers and corsages.  Just normal wedding day tension and arguments.  Gail had been in enough weddings over the years to know how wedding preparations went.

Her disquiet was worth a prayer, so she prayed that her people would come through the day safe and unharmed.

Carol Hancock

With my field glasses, I did another quick scan of the smallish parking lot of the old church from my position in the empty third story apartment across the street, letting my metasense linger.  A psychological crutch, yes, but when something works, use it.  Who else but Lori would have discovered that binoculars, magnifying sight, would also trick the brain into picking up more details with the metasense?  Tom had taken to calling Lori “the Focus from Planet X,” and the term stuck among my people.  Lori’s ideas were more than just otherworldly, though: they worked, and they were useful.

St. Luke’s was an imposing old urban church, exuding a grandeur edging toward beauty.  The daylight made the defense easier – according to my Crow contacts, senior Crow tricks would have a much harder time hiding an approaching army in daylight.  With that, the eyeballs and metasenses of all the Crows I had talked into spotter duty, and the narrow streets around the church, we were ready, and in good shape for a fight.

I took the binoculars down from my eyes and repressed a shiver of nerves.  My responsibility for this operation was immense.  Scary, but as Haggerty might say, a good scared – command responsibility did feel like something I was made for.  I didn’t see Haggerty, and wouldn’t expect to, unless she showed herself to me.  She patrolled the area, around and around and around, sensing and hiding.  The Crows would all be inside the church, sensing out (though Occum said he would choose his own hiding place, not trusting me because I was female, an Arm, from Missouri, too young, and too tall for a woman, besides; did I mention I found the twisted runt of a Crow difficult to deal with?).  We had worried Occum and the Nobles would back out of their promise to be here and help defend, but they hadn’t.  We had prepared signals, both mundane and with juice, for all the circumstances we could come up with, and an important alert signal for ‘something strange is going on, and I don’t know what’.

I had finished the battle preparation for the wedding, but this was just the first part of my long day of activities.  Later, I would make sure everyone followed my plan for the caravan from the church to the Dearborn Hyatt, and the reception there.  Then, I would make sure our trap ‘army’ stayed hidden in place around the Hyatt.

I truthfully hoped the Hunters attacked here, during the wedding.  I was a lot more confident about being able to ambush them around St. Luke’s than around the damned Hyatt.

“Well, Focus Forbes, are you ready?” Tom said.  I nodded.  I had worked myself into exhaustion, but I finally mastered my disguise, after five days of juice-pounding work.  I could pull off the masquerade, muting my metapresence to be that of a lousy, weak Focus, a real stretch of my juice manipulation talents.  Tom, Gilgamesh, and Hank accompanied me as my ‘Focus’ bodyguards.  Gilgamesh had shown up on time, despite whatever was going on in his screwy head.  Even with no preparation time, he had no problem at all masquerading as a male Transform.  This made me want to curse Crows and their innate stealthy talents.

“Time for the first part of this show,” I said, stone faced and cold as ice.

Gilgamesh

The panic built up in Gilgamesh as he followed a glacial Tiamat down the stairway of the commandeered flea-bag apartment and out into the street which led to the church.  Fifteen Focuses and well over two hundred Transforms attended this wedding, with the normals, a total attendance of over five hundred.  He shivered just to think about it.

Tiamat wanted him thinking in terms of fighting and combat.  Convincing people to take cover, getting people to safety.  Guarding Focuses.  Watching for traitors.  Once Tiamat ditched her Focus masquerade, he was supposed to skitter into the shadows and hide himself, help run communications, and wait for opportunities.

Gilgamesh returned to scanning the area around him and saw nothing unexpected.  The Nobles hid in the church attic already, having located a panel to leap from into the sanctuary, if necessary, and had different exits planned for going outside, if the situation warranted.

Tiamat led their group into the church, signed the book in the narthex with her assumed name, and greeted Focus Polly Keistermann, the Focus Council President and one of the country’s scarier Focuses.  The greeting was public and a big prearranged show.  If the Lieutenant (as the Focus was known among the Crows) accepted Tiamat as a Focus, well, then Tiamat was a Focus, even if her juice signature wasn’t exactly standard Focus material.  Not that anyone but a Crow could spot the difference, and Gail, who hopefully would be too busy with her wedding to notice.

Two of the Polly Focus’s bodyguards were disguised Crows.  Gilgamesh stubbornly forced his racing heart to a more normal pace, and looked the Crows over, very carefully.  One of the Crows winked at him and continued his military duties.  Sinclair, which didn’t surprise him.  The other did: Zero, one of Shadow’s local New York Crows.  Both were dressed up in the house uniform worn by all of the Lieutenant’s bodyguards.  He was confident the Lieutenant knew about Sinclair, but Zero?  Was he a mole?

Gilgamesh resolved to find out, later.

Henry Zielinski

“Either you go in as the fat lady, or you go in as my bodyguard,” Carol had said, with her arms crossed and her brows down.  He didn’t want to go in at all.  Six weeks post-op from the removal of half of his adrenal gland, at fifty-three years old and no longer artificially adrenally a young man, he didn’t belong in a physical fight.  But no, Carol wanted him there for his insights and as her personal field medic, just in case.

He hated the fat lady disguise with a passion, making his choice easy.

Gilgamesh walked beside him, lost in his own world.  Carol and the Crow had been fighting, their words to each other icily polite.  Hank couldn’t get the story out of either of them, not to his surprise.

Hank looked over the narthex of St. Luke’s and picked out Focuses and households with practiced ease.  He would like nothing better than to exchange news with them, but he wore his Kirk Jordan mercenary-for-hire disguise, complete with shaved head and fake tattoos, and Focus gossip wasn’t on his list of approved activities.

Half way to the entrance to the nave, Focus Hargrove nabbed Carol to chat.  Hargrove was sure she recognized Focus Forbes from some old Focus get-together, and she and Carol chatted about old times.  Carol, playing her Focus Forbes fluffy-Focus character to perfection, supplied all the right questions and giddy answers simply by reading what Focus Hargrove expected to hear.

Focus Hargrove finally let Carol go, and a Rickenbach Transform offered his arm to escort her and the rest of them into the huge nave, with enough pews for hundreds to gather for worship.  Well, score one for Carol, Zielinski decided.  Zielinski people-watched.  Tom was doing scans of the sight lines and ambush points in the building.  Gilgamesh edged over from human-looking to Crow, concentrating too much on his metasense, no way to maintain a disguise.  Zielinski gently nudged Gilgamesh, which earned him a dirty look, and Gilgamesh’s return to humanity.

One young Focus caught his eye.  Young in time since her transformation; this woman still had some of her old hair left, not as beautiful as she would later become.  She moved like an Arm.  No, that wasn’t it, because Eissler didn’t move like that.  She moved as if Keaton had trained her.  So did her two Transform bodyguards, significantly better trained than normal for a young Focus.  This must be Wendy Mann.  Hank couldn’t help but approve.  They needed all the help they could get.

If the Hunters went all in on the attack, as both Carol and Stacy feared they would, the wedding defenders were doomed.

Tonya Biggioni

“Look, there’s the church,” Danny said, pointing.

“Oh, my, it’s huge,” Delia said. “Rickenbach’s household actually got to live in there for six months?”

The church was indeed beautiful.  Tonya experienced a momentary flash of jealousy and wished she had a chance to live in someplace large for a while. The place was awe-inspiring, old stone walls and soaring bell tower, stained glass windows and a maze of additions added on over decades.

Tonya noticed a man near the ground, though, just finishing scrubbing the old stone. Faintly, she could still read ‘Monster die!’ The awe faded in the face of mundane hatred, and she turned her eyes back to the car.

The parking lot filled rapidly, even a half-hour before the service, just as planned. “Don’t be surprised at how many Focuses attend,” Polly had told her.  Meaning troops, of course.  They needed all the help they could get, and Polly had been politicking with a passion.

Danny decided at the last minute against dropping Tonya off at the door, reluctant to leave her with just two bodyguards, even for the few minutes it would take him to park.  Not surprising, as he didn’t trust the faux bodyguard of hers, Tony.  Her big secret.

After parking, they began the long walk to the church, and on the sidewalk out front, they joined the stream of people heading in. Individuals and families, and behind her, Wendy Mann’s entire household converged on the church en-masse. Ahead of her, the strains of the organ prelude drifted out from the sanctuary. People milled in the narthex and there was the confused bustle of people moving in a hundred different directions. Tonya recognized Gail’s people by the bursting grins they all wore, and guessed Gail was high as a kite with happiness, wherever she and the wedding party were cloistered.  Although they weren’t all cloistered, Tonya noted, seeing Beth cornering a Focus she didn’t recognize near the big double doors to the nave. She hoped Gail calmed down enough to allow the minister to keep a straight face through the service.

Nobody recognized her right off the bat. She knew a few of Wini’s people were around somewhere, helping out, but they weren’t here in the narthex and the other households knew her only by reputation. She guessed she had no more than a couple of minutes of anonymity left, before the show began.

Delia nudged her, and she turned.  Well, Tonya noted, here it was, now.  An usher walked her way, recognizing a Focus but not knowing the particulars.

“Welcome, Focus,” he said with the wide grin of all of Gail’s people. He was an older man with a friendly face. “I’m Manfred Cadriel and Gail Rickenbach is my Focus. We’re delighted to have you here. Can I ask your name?”

“Thank you very much for the welcome,” she said, politely, knowing her politeness wouldn’t matter. “I’m Tonya Biggioni.”

The man froze and his face turned pale.  “Ah, welcome,” he said, stammering, before pulling himself together. “Would you like to be seated? Or, ah, would you like to stay out here for a while?”

Wonderful.  Tonya listened to the murmur of voices ‘
that’s Biggioni’,
and ‘
no, really, that’s Focus Biggioni’
as the news passed swiftly through the crowd and her people struggled mightily to maintain straight faces.

“I think I’ll be seated,” Tonya said, and extended her hand. The man extended his elbow for her to take.  Slowly. He looked like he expected her to bite him, or to retag him as hers right there on the spot.