Bones of Angels (6 page)

Whittington Manor, Lab #2

Long Island, New York

When Charles Whittington regained consciousness, he found himself strapped to a stainless steel coroner’s table in an adjoining laboratory beneath the manor. It was where he often experimented on cadavers. He had been conducting experiments on the electromagnetic fields contained in all living tissue, both human and animal.

The bodies he used were indeed dead, thanks to Eddie Zoovas giving him the occasional unidentified body of a homeless person from the city morgue — with the bodies always being returned, of course. But Charles had found that residual energy resided even in dead bodies. Everyone emitted light and energy in a portion of the EM band undetectable by human vision.

Charles’ hands and legs were bound to the table by wide leather bands.

“Are you inclined to speak yet, Professor?” asked Reynard.

Charles remained as silent as a sentry at Buckingham Palace.

“Very well then,” said Reynard. “Brother Antonius will now do some experiments of his own while other members of my order search your mansion.”

In the floors above, a dozen gray-clad acolytes were ransacking the manor.

Antonius approached the coroner’s table. He held a scalpel in one hand and a pair of dental pliers in the other.

Whittington Manor, Lab #2

Long Island, New York

Hair disheveled, brother Cedric hurried into the lab, out of breath. His pale, frightened eyes darted around the room as he endeavored to speak, as if he were looking for something. He was clearly shaken.

“My master, this is an unholy place!”

“Have you found anything yet?” asked Reynard, unfazed by Cedric’s panic.

“So far we have discovered only a few photographs of interest, but no clues as to the bones’ whereabouts.”

Reynard stood. “Return to your duties, Brother Cedric. Steel yourself. We are protected by God.”

Trembling, Brother Cedric slowly backpedaled to the doorway. “I will do my best, my master.”

Reynard turned and walked to the coroner’s table. “Perhaps, Professor Whittington, your face will look like mine before too long. Unless you wish to cooperate, that is. You’ve been on that table for almost eighteen hours.”

The scalpel wielded by Gerasimus had made several vertical cuts on Charles’ cheeks. Blood pooled on his neck, in the small triangular cavity above his sternum.

“You will not prevail,” Charles said weakly, his voice hoarse from screaming. He was missing three teeth from his right jaw line, and his hair was matted with sweat. “And you have summoned evil back to the manor after many years.”

Reynard eyed his captive with suspicion, unsure what he was talking about.

Whittington Manor, The Rear Gardens

Long Island, New York

Hawkeye and Quiz crept forward as the stealth helicopter lifted into the late evening sky. Its rotors made only the slightest whisper as it banked and headed towards the ocean.

“We’re behind a greenhouse,” Hawkeye said into the headset of his helmet. His visor was down, displaying several schematics of the surrounding gardens.

A former Titan Six operative, Touchdown spoke to Hawkeye and Quiz from the Ops Center aboard the Alamiranta.

“Reading you perfectly,” said Touchdown, the communications liaison for most Titan missions. “The manor is three hundred yards ahead. Showing two hot spots very near you. Their temperature is 98.6. We have intruders on the premises. I’ve also got a shot of your immediate vicinity. Your head cam is operational.”

“Roger that,” Hawkeye said.

“Let’s get moving,” Hawkeye said to Quiz.

Quiz was outfitted in military fatigues, with a Kevlar vest beneath his shirt, and a Glock holstered over his right hip. He wore a slim headset, but no helmet.

Two men in gray sweats, the hoods of their sweatshirts pulled over their heads, sprang from behind a tall, well-shaped hedge of hawthorn. Legs braced, their karate chops were aimed for the necks of Hawkeye and Quiz.

Quiz gasped and fell to the narrow concrete path. Hawkeye deflected the karate blow and grabbed his assailant by the forearm. Pulling the gray figure closer, Hawkeye slammed his knee into the man’s groin. Reynard’s servant doubled over in pain as he exclaimed unintelligible syllables.

Hawkeye glanced at Quiz. It was time to see if he could pass muster in the field. His attacker was already preparing to immobilize the recumbent figure with a swift kick to the ribs.

Quickly, Quiz rolled his body in a half-turn away from the attacker, arms and fingers spread wide as he prepared to regain his balance. Pulling his right knee under his chest, his arms pushed against the ground, allowing him to spring to his feet. He whirled around, sending his left foot into the stomach of the advancing enemy. When the man doubled over, Quiz clasped his hands and brought them up swiftly into his jaw. The sound of bones cracking was audible to Hawkeye. Not letting up, Quiz slammed his left fist against the man’s head. The attacker toppled over, motionless.

“Sweet,” uttered Hawkeye, who ducked as his own attacker charged once again. The man flew over Hawkeye’s bent body and landed in a patch of damp grass.

Hawkeye jumped high and came down hard on top of the man’s chest, knees smashing against his ribcage. Hawkeye angled his body and threw a hard punch at his enemy’s left cheek. He pounded his fist against the man’s face twice more until blood spilled from his open mouth.

“They’re Reynard’s acolytes,” Quiz pronounced. “I studied a briefing folder while we were in transit. The monks who are expected to mix it up a bit usually wear gray sweats under their robes.”

“Nice work,” Hawkeye said. “Very nice.”  He smiled. “So much for a little recon, as Mrs. Caine put it.”

Hawkeye stood straight and surveyed the grounds. Stone angels, both tall and short, guarded the grounds with stone swords unsheathed and stone wings outspread. Even some of the topiary had been pruned and shaped into the shapes of angels or crosses.

“It takes all kinds,” Hawkeye said to himself.

Whittington Manor, The Rear Gardens

Long Island, New York

* I suppose I should congratulate you, but I find violence so distasteful. *

We watch it on monitors all the time from the Ops Center. I would think you’d be used to combat by now.

* Growing used to combat signals a very dangerous mindset. Since I’m here, however, I suppose I should warn you that trouble lies inside that manor. *

The Ops Center will keep us posted on what’s in the manor, but thanks.

* The Ops center may not be able to help you with everything. *

Sure they will. You’re crazy.

* Don’t say I didn’t try to warn you. *

Ops Center

Aboard the Alamiranta

DJ had been watching the fight on Long Island from her station in the Ops Center, the tactical heart of Titan missions.

Located in the heart of the Alamiranta below Deck Six, the Ops Center was round, with a blue-gray marble floor. A ring of workstations circled a raised platform in the center, which projected a holographic display of mission sites.

The workstations were filled with computers, keyboards, and video displays showing images from live feeds around the world. During missions, the main consoles displayed the activity of Titan field teams. The stations were manned by Touchdown, DJ, Quiz (when present), and a dozen other Titan technicians.  

An elevated observation catwalk ran around the perimeter of the Ops Center, and the air smelled faintly of ozone courtesy of the xenon lighting.

“Yes!” DJ said under her breath as she watched Quiz defeat his foe with surprising agility. Her attacks in the gym and the bedroom had apparently paid off.

She settled back in her chair. She had become sexually aroused by the physical display of the young warrior.

Whittington Manor, The Rear Gardens

Long Island, New York

Loud barking came from behind a stately line of tall Leyland cypress trees. Hawkeye drew his sidearm, but Quiz put his hand on his leader’s forearm and pushed it down.

“That’s George and Gracie,” said Quiz.

The Rottweilers advanced as Quiz sank to one knee. “Hi, guys. It’s been a while.”

The dogs licked Quiz’s face as he patted each on the head. They then bounded away, satisfied that the new humans posed no threat.

A loud shriek emanated from the manor.

“I think some of the intruders may have stumbled upon a few of the manor’s original residents,” said Quiz.

“Who would that be?” asked Hawkeye.

Quiz laughed. “Dead soldiers from the nineteenth century.”

Hawkeye shrugged. “No stranger than the bones of angels.”

Two hundred yards ahead, sniper fire from the manor caused Hawkeye and Quiz to dive to the right, taking shelter behind a Cornish hedge of stone and earth topped by evergreen plants.

“I place at least a dozen men inside the manor,” Touchdown said. “I’m going to send several routes through the gardens to your visor. The green one will offer you the most cover.”

“Got it,” said Hawkeye. “Green is for go.”

Whittington Manor, Main Lab

Long Island, New York

“I’ve found something, master,” said Brother Antonius as he stared at the screen displaying the photographic attachment sent to Charles from Archbishop Connolly.

Antonius typed quickly and the screen changed. It now showed various maps.

Reynard stood directly behind Antonius. He was obviously pleased.

“The Lord has guided us,” Reynard proclaimed, his eyes raised to heaven, his voice almost chanting the words. “That is the location of the bones of the Archangel. Henceforth, the world will be forever changed.”

Whittington Manor, The Rear Gardens

Long Island, New York

Following a jagged green line displayed on the inside of his helmet visor, Hawkeye threaded his way through a complex maze of hedges and flowerbeds. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as he slowed his forward progress.

“Something feels strange, Ops,” Hawkeye said. “Do you have any new intel?”

“As a matter of fact, we do,” Touchdown replied. “Our holographic display here in the Center shows all four floors of the manor. I now read additional hot spots. Fourteen are red — more of Reynard’s men, I suspect. But the holographic display now shows approximately a hundred orange spots as well.”

“So what are we up against?” asked Hawkeye.

“Working on it,” said Touchdown.

“Be ready to abort,” Caine said. “If you’re vastly outnumbered, I want you and Quiz out of there. I’m ordering the stealth chopper to hover nearby for emergency extraction.”

DJ had opened her mouth to speak, but had checked herself. She had wanted to advocate for immediate withdrawal of the Titan recon team.

Whittington Manor, Main Lab

Long Island, New York

“Make a hardcopy of all computer data, back it up on CD, and then erase the file.” Reynard ordered. “And alert our brothers that we will be leaving very shortly.”

“Yes, my master,” said Antonius,  “but . . . ”

“What’s wrong?” Reynard barked.

“The computer to my right is linked to the monitoring room on the second floor. One of the external cameras shows two men directly outside the east wing.”

“Who are they?” asked Reynard.

“They look like . . . ”  The acolyte was afraid to finish his sentence, but he swallowed and took a deep breath. “They look like soldiers.”

Reynard left the lab and climbed to the first floor, where he found two of his order, Brothers Simeon and Erastus. He leaned close and gave them orders in a whisper before returning to the main lab.

Whittington Manor, Outside the East Wing

Long Island, New York

“Ready to climb?” Hawkeye said to his companion.

“Uh, sure,” said Quiz. “But these trellises don’t look too sturdy.”

Hawkeye jabbed Quiz’s right shoulder lightly. “Rule One isn’t even written in a manual.

“Rule One?”

“Always make use of what’s available. Since I don’t see an elevator, we use the trellises. You’re lighter, so you take the wooden one. I’ll take the iron trellis.”

The two trellises, separated by three feet, were laced with ivy and ascended the entire façade of Whittington Manor’s east wing.

The two men stepped onto the latticework of the trellises and slowly began climbing the wall of the mansion.

“Let’s try this window,” Hawkeye suggested when they’d reached the first floor. The window was directly between the two trellises.

Hawkeye tried to lift the sash, but it didn’t budge.

Quiz chuckled. “You’re wasting your time. Look how deeply the window is set into the wall. It’s fake.”  He produced a small pocket flashlight and shone its narrow beam through the pane of glass. “See?  Behind the glass is just brick.”

“Okay then,” said Hawkeye. “We go higher.”

“Two red spots beneath you,” alerted Touchdown. “Not sure whether they see you or not.”

Ten feet further up, Quiz felt a sharp sting in his left shoulder. “Dammit!  I think I’ve been stung by a bee or a wasp.”

Hawkeye glanced to his right. “No bee sting, pal. There’s a dart in your shoulder.”

Quiz’s body abruptly fell backwards, six inches away from the wall. The frail, weathered trellis was separating from the manor.

“Everything’s getting a bit blurry,” the young man said.

“Hold on, kiddo,” said Hawkeye. “I’m going to hook us together.”

Hawkeye fastened a line from his belt to a metal loop in Quiz’s belt with a carabiner. He then reached out and steadied his teammate. “Can you step sideways, Quiz?”

“Dunno. I’m seeing double. I think I’ll take forty winks.”

Grunting, Hawkeye circled Quiz’s waist with his right hand and pulled his companion to the left, situating the man’s feet on the iron trellis. That’s when Hawkeye felt the sting in his thigh.

“I’ve been hit, too, Ops.”

“Releasing adrenaline in Hawkeye’s BioMEMS system,” said Touchdown without missing a beat.

The wooden trellis fell to the ground. Hawkeye was growing woozy as he looked beneath him to see two men in gray robes — Erastus and Simeon — standing in the manicured garden.

“Hang in there, Hawkeye,” said Caine. “The cobwebs will be gone in a minute or two.”

DJ tensed as she watched the drama unfolding. Instruments in the Ops Center indicated that Quiz’s blood pressure and heart rate were dangerously low.

Hawkeye felt his one-handed grip on the iron trellis grow weak. The weight of two bodies was pulling him down.

“Increase the dosage!” ordered Caine.

More adrenaline flooded the bloodstream of Titan Six’s leader.

“Hello there,” said Hawkeye. “I think I’m up for a little more climbing.”

The ascent was perilous. With each step higher, Hawkeye needed to let go of the trellis for a split second as his one free hand lurched upwards to find the next piece of grillwork. Five feet higher, he reached a doorway.

“Who the hell puts a door in the outer wall of a mansion?” he asked himself.

He tried the handle, but it was locked. Quiz was completely unconscious.

A pencil-thin laser protruded from Quiz’s breast pocket. Hawkeye bent his head to the right, grabbed the laser between his teeth, and jerked back. His tongue searched the small silver cylinder for the ON button.

Click.

Two more darts hit the nearby bricks. Missing their marks, they fell harmlessly to the ground.

Hawkeye aimed the laser at the keyhole in the mysterious doorway. A puff of smoke wafted into the night.

Squeezing Quiz’s body more tightly so that the fingers of his right hand could curl around the iron, Hawkeye extended his left hand quickly, turned the knob, and pulled the door open. The next move would be tricky.

He planted his left foot inside the doorway, hooking it around the doorframe. Next, he took hold of the frame with his left hand, tightened his grip, and pulled Quiz and himself into the mansion. Quiz’s legs dangled outside the structure. Hawkeye crawled forward on the polished wooden floor and then grabbed Quiz by the shirt and hauled him all the way in.

“We’re inside the manor,” Hawkeye told Ops. “Second floor.”

Looking up, Hawkeye saw a glowing figure standing five feet away. The body possessed an orange tint.

“Welcome to the party,” said the Confederate soldier. “The more the merrier.”

Ops Center

Aboard the Alamiranta

“Hawkeye, take the pre-loaded adrenaline syringe from your med kit,” DJ instructed. “Wake up Quiz ASAP.”

“Roger,” said Hawkeye.

“I show an orange target five feet away,” Touchdown said urgently. “Report!”

“Nothing to worry about,” Hawkeye said. “At least, I don’t think there is.”

“What’s going on?” Caine demanded.

“I’m looking at a Civil War soldier,” answered Hawkeye. “He’s grinning like an idiot. Seems like a nice enough fellow. Any of those Civil War re-enactments going on nearby?”

Caine advanced and looked at Touchdown.

Touchdown shrugged. “Beats the hell out of me, ma’am. I don’t know what the hell’s going on over there.”

Whittington Manor, The East Wing

Long Island, New York

Eying the dozens of oil paintings of angels on the walls around him, Hawkeye administered the adrenaline to Quiz. Within minutes, the young man began to come around. His eyes fluttered as he lifted his head. “I think I got hit . . . by . . . one . . . of Grandfather’s tranquilizer darts.”

“It sure as hell wasn’t your grandfather who shot us,” Hawkeye explained. “Can you stand up?”

Quiz staggered to his feet slowly. He, too, now saw the Confederate soldier. “Just humor him, Hawkeye.”  Quiz saluted the semi-transparent soldier, who nodded and saluted back.

“Status report,” said Caine. “I need to know who these other targets are.”

“Ghosts,” said Quiz. “They come around occasionally. Usually when negative energy enters the mansion. They originally haunted my great grandmother Mary. I don’t think they’ll bother us.”

Hawkeye rolled his eyes and sighed heavily. They should have sent Saint Shooter on this mission instead of me.

* This is what I warned you about. *

Like I said. They’re harmless.

* Maybe. Maybe not. There are other dangers, too. *

Footsteps sounded in the hallway around the corner.

“You’ve got company,” declared Touchdown. “Human company, if my instruments are correct.”

“Are they armed?” asked Hawkeye.

“From what I can see — ”

Touchdown’s words became garbled with electronic noise.

“Touchdown,” said Hawkeye. “Are you there?”

A steady hiss on the link was punctuated by crackling and popping noises.

“Touchdown?”

There was nothing but static.